


I know him so well

by Snoot37



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 07:17:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 69,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoot37/pseuds/Snoot37
Summary: Following the events of Captain America Civil War, Sharon Carter and Steve Rogers find themselves adrift and in hiding. Where do they go from here? SPOILERS for Civil War!





	1. Chapter 1

Poster’s Note:  
Well, she’s back! Once again, I am posting for my friend the author who took a break from writing following some personal hardships the last few years. I’m so relieved to see her writing again, and this one looks to be a good one! As always, I didn’t write this, I’m just posting for her. Enjoy folks! Snoot37

Author’s Note:  
I can’t believe it’s been so long since I wrote some fanfic! I’ve had to deal with a lot of heavy personal stuff (deaths and job drama) that seemed to have chased away my muse, but we went to see Captain America Civil War this weekend and my Marvel Fanfic Muse has returned! I’m a hopeless Steve/Sharon shipper, (not easy to ship a rarepair around here) and I’m a bit disappointed at the lack of straight Steve/Sharon fic out there. There’s some really good ones (Love The Best By Far is You and The Colonel and the Cop, go read now!), but it seems like fanfic involving Steve is dominated by the Steve/Bucky craze. Nothing wrong with that, mind you, some of it’s pretty good, but even the best Steve/Sharon fics can’t seem to escape the Stucky wave. This is straight Steve + Sharon *only* so if it ain’t your thang, move along, no hate please. Also, I was a tad upset with all the Sharon hate I’m seeing on Tumblr and other areas. She’s a great character with decades of relationship history with Steve, smart, sharp and loyal. And a lot of people seem to be going on saying she’s useless and unnecessary in the movies. Not in the least! CW would have turned out very differently without her, starting with the line “we have orders to shoot on sight.” That line right there changed the whole movie and only she could have delivered it the way it was set up. Hopefully my little fic here clears some of that up and explains some of those notions people have about MCU Sharon. Thankfully my husband is a walking encyclopedia of Marvel, comics and MCU, and has already watched all the cut scenes, so he’s been a big help on this one. Enjoy everyone! This one is looking to be a couple chapters long.  
::::::::::::::SPOILERS FOR CAPTAIN AMERICA CIVIL WAR!!!!::::::::::::::::::::::::  
I Know Him So Well  
No one in your life is with you constantly  
No one is completely on your side.  
And though I move my world to be with him  
Still the gap between us is too wide.

Looking back I could have played it differently  
Learned about the man before I fell.  
But I was ever so much younger then  
Now at least I know I know him well.  
\--Elaine Paige  
“I know him so well”  
Chapter 1: Sharon

The day had started out pleasant enough, but now the sky was threatening a late afternoon rain, hovering over the road where the beat up old pickup truck lumbered around a mountain road. It was not uncommon in this area of the Shenandoah Valley this time of year, but the timing couldn't have been worse. The truck hit several potholes that didn't seem to bother the occupants in the cab, but would make anyone else start considering eulogies to his spinal cord and backside. After a brief climb up another mountainside, gears grinding, the truck pulled to a stop billowing dust behind it, and the slim, lithe figure of a young woman wearing jeans and a hoodie, her blonde hair pulled in a ponytail under baseball cap, vaulted over the wall of the back of the truck where she had been lying down, nervously judging the growing cloud cover in the sky, but also to ensure no one saw her riding in the back and possibly recognize her. Sharon Carter was likely a wanted fugitive by now, and she had no intention of letting herself be arrested by some backwoods country bumpkin of a Sherriff. Her Aunt Peggy would roll over three times in her grave and bemoan from Heaven, where she was undoubtedly watching through a hole in one of those clouds, how little ten years of SHIELD and CIA training had served her niece in basic undercover subterfuge. Not that any small town law enforcement would be able to take her, much less hold her, but it was the principle of the thing and she didn’t want to hurt anyone in an escape attempt. That and she didn't feel like letting the newspapers know in what direction she had fled when it made the gossip section of whatever local newspaper ran around here.

Her hiking boots crunched in the loose gravel of the road as she walked up to the passenger side of the truck, hefting her backpack onto her back, and thumping the door firmly.

“Thanks for the lift!” she said with a smile.

An older woman's graying head poked out of the open window and friendly civilian eyes looked at her with real worry.

“I don't know about this, honey. This is the middle of nowhere. Ain't nothing around for miles. You sure you want us to let you out here?”

“Oh yeah I'm sure,” said Sharon, pointing to the mile marker on the side of the road. “This is where I get off. My friend’ place is just up through the trees over there,” she said, indicating vaguely over her shoulder with her thumb.

The older man who had been driving also leaned out of the window over his wife. “I ain't heard of anyone living up there in those parts. Don't know of any drive leading up to a place either. I don't think you have the right location.”

Sharon shrugged. “The driveway got washed out in a storm not too long ago and it grew over pretty quick. But I've been up here plenty of times. I know where it is.”

“Well we don't mind driving you up to the cabin,” said that the older woman.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and Sharon looked up, starting to feel a little anxious. She still had quite a hike in front of her and she did not want these nice older people to be caught up in her situation if she could help it. It had been risky even asking them for a ride. But she had hitchhiked all the way from the Carter estate in Virginia and didn't have a vehicle that wasn't going to give her away in some way, so she had taken the chance. Now she was within sight of her destination and she really needed these people to move on before she was spotted and things got ugly. She knew if she didn't set off immediately for the cabin that was her destination that she was looking at the very real possibility of making the hike in the rain and dark with very little on her except what was in her backpack. Like most people in her line of work, she always kept a bag packed with necessities if she needed to run at a moment’s notice. It had not been an easy thing to escape her CIA job in Berlin and get out of the country without her supervisors knowing it. But again, in her line of work, she always had several escape routes planned from any location before she went there. She had flown out of Luxembourg wearing an aubrun wig and a dress that was two sizes too big sporting a fake ID and passport that were so professional that security agents and customs officials had not glanced twice at it. When she had landed in Miami, she had ditched the disguise and adopted another one, “borrowed” a car and driven to the estate that had been owned by her aunt Peggy in Virginia where the rest of the family, including her mother, still lived. She had woken her somewhat hysterical mother up at two in the morning to explain to her that she was going undercover for a while and that people might be asking questions. She told her mother that she was to answer the questions truthfully and not try to locate her. Then she had left, ditching the “borrowed” car, hitchhiking her way to the Shenandoah Valley to where she knew SHIELD safe house was hidden high up in the mountains. She had no idea if the place was still usable or not after the fall of SHIELD or whether not it was occupied, but she was really short on options and needed a place to lay low so she could figure out what her next move would be.

She was not exactly lying to the older people about its inaccessibility, however. There actually was no road leading to the SHIELD cabin. Most people either hiked it from the highway, as she intended to do, or landed a quinjet in the field next-door. She looked at the kindly couple and shrugged.

“No, like I said, the road is washed out. In fact, that's why we’re all gathering up here. To fix the road so we can get the cars up. I really appreciate your help, though. You guys take care and drive safe.”

The couple still didn't look convinced.

“Well,” said the older man, “we live up the road apiece about three or so miles from here. You have any hard time, you hike on up this road to our place and well drive you to town.”

Sharon smiled a real smile. “Thanks so much. I appreciate that and I'll keep it in mind.”

She gave them a wave as they waved back, put the truck in gear and slowly ambled up the road. Once they were out of sight, however, her smile vanished and a look of grim determination came over her face. Another roll of thunder hastened her along as she settled the backpack more comfortably on her back, carefully looked around to make sure she wasn't being watched, and then plunged into the dense forest in the opposite direction that she had indicated to the couple. She had the advantage of a head start on the CIA, who were undoubtedly plastering her face on the necessary bulletins sent out to law-enforcement around the world by now. She could thank SHIELD for the fact that she had such a head start, several days in fact, for despite being infested with Hydra almost from the beginning, SHIELD had been a far more efficient intelligence agency than the CIA ever would be. She had been out of Germany and back in America before anyone even realized she had taken the gear from the evidence lock up to give back to Steve Rogers and his friends. But that head start would not last forever and she needed to be out of sight. She just hoped the friendly elderly couple would not recognize her or get in any trouble for giving her a lift, or worse, show the authorities where they had left her. While she did have about 2 miles to walk straight through the forest, just enough of a distance to be a burden, anyone in an aircraft could find the cabin that was her destination.

She walked for about an hour, her normally brisk and strong gait hampered by the fact that she was plunging straight through the forest and not on a footpath, before finally emerging at an electrified fence that went 30 feet into the air and disappeared into the tree cover. The low hum surrounding the fence and the fact that her hair started to stand on end when she got close told her that the electrified fence was still operational. Getting her bearing on direction from the position of moss growing on the north side of the trees, she turned and headed towards her left, walking along the fence knowing that she would come to the entrance soon enough. Thunder cracked overhead and the first heavy cold drops started to make their way down to the ground. She pulled the hood of her jacket over the baseball cap, but it would not keep her dry for a long, and even though her backpack was somewhat water resistant, it was not waterproof and she had electronics inside. She hurried faster. Finally, she came to a gate in the fence, but to the casual observer, there would appear to be no way to open it. There was no handle and no keypad. It didn't matter, for Sharon had been here before and knew how to open it. She walked over to a tree that looked like any other, but pressed her hand on a knothole.

She saw the green laser scan her palm print and she bent down to look in another smaller knothole as another laser scanned her retina. Green lights flashed around her palm three times and she heard the clank of the gate as it swung open. She exhaled a sigh of relief she had not realized she had been holding. SHIELD had fallen almost 2 years ago and many of its assets have been grabbed by both remaining SHIELD agents and Hydra agents. She had heard rumors about pockets of agents still loyal to SHIELD operating on their own, trying to reform the agency. She had also heard conflicting reports about Hydra operating as well, and reports could not seem to indicate whether or not the remainder of SHIELD was winning or if Hydra had not been eliminated as previously thought. She had thought seriously about trying to join up with one of the SHIELD groups, but she had no way of knowing which one was truly SHIELD and which one was Hydra. Ultimately, Maria Hill had encouraged her to sign up for the CIA and remain there, undoubtedly in case the remaining true SHIELD agents needed an insider in the agency. But as the months had passed with no word from any of her previous colleagues, she accepted that her new lot in life was to dedicate her hard won intelligence agent skills to the CIA, and this was where she remained. It was difficult not to feel a little bit left behind, but she told herself that counterterrorism was certainly worthwhile work and gave it her all.

She had, of course, just thrown it all away a few days ago to help Steve Rogers. And she had done it without a second thought. She had also told to herself to not regret the decision no matter what the circumstances, and she wasn't going to start now. She was just thankful that the security system at this old SHIELD safe house still recognized her credentials, even after the Fall. There had been no way of telling, when she ran for it, whether or not this would even be a safe location and she still didn't know. She didn't intend to approach the house via the front door without reliable intel on the place. She intended to spend a good deal of time scoping out the area and making sure that the house wasn't trapped or occupied. Surely Hydra agents would have known that fugitive SHIELD agents would have known of some of the safe houses and attempted to locate their enemies there. But the fall had been over two years ago and she hoped that whatever battles might have played out at the safe houses was over now.

As she finally caught sight of the cabin in the clearing by the lake, she approached carefully from the north side, finally glad for the dark cloud cover that obscured her in the dark underbrush. Her nearly white blond hair could be a real problem in situations like these, and she pulled the hood tighter around her face to keep it from breaking free. She made two complete circles around the cabin before finally deciding that there was no evidence of habitation from the outside. Carefully and silently, she approached one of the side entrances. There were no obvious locks on the door, but she knew better than to try the handle, for it would be locked. Instead she pressed her thumb to what appeared to be a knothole in the wood of the door frame, and just as with the tree, it glowed green three times and the lock disengaged. Carefully, she opened the door, slid inside, and closed it behind her just as the sky really opened up.

The sound of the storm became muted as the door closed behind her. She shivered a little bit, but not entirely from the damp outside. Her senses were on high alert and the entire building was dark and gloomy. The air had a musty smell to it, as if nobody had been inside the cabin in months, maybe even years. She didn't hear any sounds that would indicate that there was another person in the building, but she knew better than to take chances. Carefully, she slipped one of the three guns she carried from her waistband holster and settled into traditional stalking stance. She was all too familiar with the scenario where a building might appear to be abandoned and empty, only to discover in a rather nasty surprise that it was not. There was a brief mental flash in her mind back to a mission she had run for SHIELD in Cambodia, back when she was still a fairly new and inexperienced agent. She was acting as team leader for the three-person crew who had gone in to sweep the building for hostiles. Even their extra careful search had not turned up the individual hiding in a hidden closet they had missed, and she had just radioed that the building was secure when he came out guns blazing. Years of target shooting with her Aunt Peggy had allowed her to quickly and easily put a bullet between his eyes before he had caused any serious damage, but the other two members of her team had both taking hits to the extremities and needed to be evacuated. It was only due to the fortune of fact that the man had been a dreadful shot, especially in the dark, that meant he had missed her comrades’ vital organs when he fired. She knew she deserved the dressing down she got from her S. O. and she took it with dignity. She had never made that mistake again. And she certainly wasn't going to make it now alone in the middle of nowhere with no back up.

Like most SHIELD safe houses, this one was built on a predetermined floor plan that she was familiar with. She knew where all the nooks and crannies were, even though she had personally only been to this location once before. It had served as a retreat or sanctuary for agents that had been too overwhelmed by the work and needed a break, but could not be left to go on vacation alone. She had come here herself after a particularly upsetting mission early in her career and had found it quite relaxing, even though she had had to share the cabin with two other people also on retreat. But perhaps the main reason she was most familiar with the cabin was because Steve Rogers had spent some time here after he had woken up. After he had first awakened from the ice, he spent a month in the SHIELD facility in New York, submitting to a battery of physicals and tests and psychiatric evaluations. Finally, when it became obvious that they could not keep him there indefinitely, Fury had sent him to this cabin to start to get a bearing on the world he now found himself in, armed with a tablet loaded with books, movies, documentaries and music to help catch him up. When she had accepted the assignment from Fury to live across the hall from Rogers and keep an eye on him for SHIELD, she had absorbed every bit of information that SHIELD had acquired on him since he woke up, as well as everything they already had previously, which she had memorized but had read again. She knew this particular safe house, like most SHIELD facilities, was bugged with audio and video equipment, which was why one of the first things she did was to move to a hallway and slide back a hidden panel and shut down the signals to the devices. She plugged in a thumb drive she always kept in her grab to go bag, which had footage of the cabin on a long loop, showing it when it was empty. She rebooted the system with the thumb drive, which would now show the video feeds to anybody who logged into look, but it would be a video feed of an empty cabin not showing her moving around in it. But because of the video and audio, she had been able to watch Steve Rogers when he stayed there, trying to get a handle on the kind of man he was and what he was experiencing. She had watched him as he had moved around between the rooms, at first sharing them with two other agents on retreat the first week, and then finally having the cabin to himself for the rest of the month he was there, only broken up by periodic visits from therapists and doctors. He had stayed there until Fury had arranged for the apartments for both her and him next-door to each other, as she was settled in before Steve arrived at his new home, giving the appearance of having lived there for quite some time already, and hopefully putting him at ease.

Her thoughts returned back to her search of the building and she spent a good hour and a half making two thorough sweeps throughout the cabin, searching in every place a person might be able to hide. The sound of the storm pounding on the roof overhead didn't add to the hominess of the place, but the rain was finally starting to subside as she reluctantly admitted that the building was clear and secure and she could finally relax. She dropped her backpack on the sofa and turned on one of the lights. She knew it would come on, for the cabin had its own sustainable power system comprising of solar panels and wind mills up in the trees, but it was still a relief to actually see the light come on. Wearily, she sank down to the sofa and tilted her head onto the backrest, closing her eyes. She took a few deep breaths and tried to focus. She was exhausted. She had been up for 36 hours so far and sleep was edging around her field of vision. But she had not been able to sleep or relax until she got to a safe spot. Maslow's pyramid of basic needs ordered that she find food, water, shelter and security before any true rational thought could commence. Until she had acquired these things, which she had, she wouldn't completely trust any decisions she made about her immediate and long term future.

Of course Maslow also had said that sex was a basic requirement, which she would tend to agree, but seeing as how she had not had sex in over three years, she doubted that that particular requirement would affect her logical thinking at this point. In fact, she had mostly sworn off men following the fall of SHIELD and the Triskelion when, still nursing a slashed arm courtesy of Rumlow, who had gotten away despite her emptying a clip at him, she had led a group of frightened control room techs with zero agent training (including one very rattled Cameron Klein, the brave tech who had been the first to refuse the launch order, stating "Captain's orders") to the nearest exit, and encountered the last man she had slept with rounding a corner and shooting a crying tech woman in the back. She had hooked up with the man after one too many drinks at the last holiday party, and had sobered up pretty quickly during the whole sex thing, after which he had not even come close to getting her off, forcing her to lie that it had been great and mutter something about early duty in the morning in order to escape his apartment and face spending the night. The woman he had just killed had been one of the ones who had frantically tried to abort the launch at her station after Rumlow had overridden Cameron's station to launch the helicarriers himself, but she had bolted out of the room when the shooting started. Given that she had tried to stop the launch, Sharon figured she had been SHIELD, and thus if her erstwhile hookup date was shooting her in the back, he must be Hydra. It was the thought that she had actually had sex with a Hydra agent, as much as the fact that he shot a woman in the back, that had made Sharon raise her gun and put three bullets into his chest. He was dead before he hit the ground, and she had shuffled the shaking techs out into the parking garage, yelling at them to get off campus as fast as they could. Cameron had driven her to the ER for stitches and had wanted to wait to bring her home, but she had insisted he get home to his wife and children and get them to safety. She had taken a bus back to her apartment next to Steve’s, grabbed the few items she actually wanted, for everything was rented and impersonal anyway, including the fake pictures on the walls of nonexistent family and friends. She had slipped into the only other apartment on the floor besides hers and Steve’s, also owned by SHIELD and empty, and waited. She had waited for him to come home. He didn't. She had waited for Hydra agents to show. They hadn't. So she had gone into his apartment, letting herself in with the key he never knew she had, and quickly boxed up anything that looked like personal effects, and brought them to the Carter estate, hiding the boxes in the basement. The furniture of both apartments had been cleaned out, Steve got out of the hospital and went to live at Stark Tower in New York, and she had moved back in with her mother temporarily at the Carter estate until she had been accepted by the CIA. 

The Carter estate had been built in the 1950s for her Aunt Peggy and Uncle Gabe by Howard Stark following their wedding. As another wedding gift, Stark had put a few of his patents in Peggy's name, thereby ensuring that the family, while never billionaires like the Starks, would never hurt for money or ever have to struggle to send their kids to college. Peggy and her husband and children lived in the main house, but a smaller house with a separate drive had been built for Peggy's brother Michael when he came to America and brought his young wife. This was where Sharon's father had been born. Then, he had grown up and married Sharon's mother, who had moved to Michael Carter's house when some ill-timed heart attacks and illnesses left Michael and his wife gone before their time. Sharon had been born in 1986 and had been 7 years old when her father, a military man, had been deployed in Desert Storm. He had been killed in battle only three weeks after arriving. With her mother's parents already gone, the only grandparent figures in Sharon's life had been Peggy and Gabe, until Gabe's undiagnosed high blood pressure had taken him too. Over the years, another small house had been built on the property where Peggy's daughter lived with her family, and her son had moved his family into the main house after Peggy had moved into the nursing home. Although a Carter only by marriage, Sharon's mother remained in the house built for her in-laws and was considered as much a part of the family as anyone. Anything Sharon truly valued was kept there, such as irreplaceable mementoes and her old teddy bear. She knew all too well how working in intelligence left your home and personal belongings up for search by unwanted hands. The Carter estate had a security system of Stark design that rivaled the ones in Tony's various mansions, so anything she wanted to keep stayed there.

It had been here that Sharon had fled when she first arrived back in the States following her traitorous assistance to Steve Rogers regarding Barnes. Perhaps she should have waited to see if either of the Rosses would actually know or be mad at her, but she figured if she had waited around, she'd be in a cell on the Raft by now with the rest of the Avengers who had fought with Captain America and been taken prisoner. Her heart had actually hurt when she had read the last briefing to arrive on her phone as she strode off the plane from Berlin. The fight at the airport had shut down everything and her flight had been one of the last to leave before the fighting started. She had already been in the air, having left for a plane right after handing off the gear to Rogers. And then kissing him. She shook her head to clear it of the memory. She had read the message on her phone. Rogers and Barnes escaped. Four other Avengers had been arrested and sent to the Raft. Hawkeye. Wilson. The Maximoff kid. Lang. They had stayed behind so Steve could escape. Rhodes was seriously injured, and Stark was an emotional wreck. And had employed an unknown fifteen year old kid with mad acrobatic skills and synthetic spiderwebs to fight on his side who now had to be flown home. (Which as far as she was concerned put Stark liable for charges of endangering a minor, or even utilizing a child soldier) She shook her head, trying not to face facts that the Avengers had splintered. She was also more than a little pissed off at Tony Stark. None of this would have happened had it not been for him. Surely no other human being on the planet reacted in quite the way he did, thanks to his money and ability to do so. He had been taken prisoner by terrorists and learned that his weapons from Stark Industries, meant for the US military, were being used by the bad guys, and his response was to shut down his factories, and then build the Iron Man suit, one of the most devastating weapons ever created, followed by the War Machine upgrades to his original suit. He discovers he’s dying of Palladium poisoning, and proceeds to go on a self-destructive rampage, which Natasha Romanoff had a first row seat to undercover with Stark. He suffers PTSD from the incident in New York, and proceeded to build an army of 42 Iron Man suits, and later the Iron Legion, which, had anyone else created a personal army of soldier robots, should have landed him in jail for endangerment of the US and every other country on the planet. The Mandarin, a crazed terrorist, had injured Stark’s bodyguard and Stark’s reaction had been to call the terrorist out on national TV and give his home address, apparently forgetting his girlfriend Pepper Potts also lived there, and both of them only barely survived the missile attack that sent Stark’s mansion into the sea. Finally, Stark decided that the best way to “keep the world safe” was to create a super robot with artificial intelligence, which spent 3 minutes on the Internet and decided humans were too damaged to save and had to be exterminated, which directly led to the incident in Sokovia, which had then directly led to the breakdown between the Avengers. It seemed to her that the only thing Steve Rogers was guilty of was not trusting politicians, or Tony, to fuck everything up royally again, and she had to say she agreed with him on that. She failed to see how Steve was the one who should be in a jail cell. As far as she was concerned, Tony Stark should have been arrested multiple times over for the last several years. She had heard that Pepper Potts had finally walked away from him recently, which was probably contributing to Tony’s aggressive emotional breakdown, though honestly, Sharon wasn’t sure how the woman had held out as long as she had. She had a certain amount of admiration for Pepper for putting up with Tony as long as she had. Sharon would have shot him by now.  
Sharon knew it had been her informing Steve that the CIA had orders to shoot Barnes on sight that had changed everything. If orders had been to take Barnes alive, send him for psychiatric evaluation and trial, she doubted Steve Rogers would have reacted as aggressively to save his friend the way he had, thus requiring Stark, and later T’Challa to fight as well. He might even have joined the CIA in hunting down Barnes with the idea of having him get the psychiatric help he required and the fair trial every America was supposed to have. The order to shoot on sight had effectively made her and all other CIA agents the judge, jury and executioner, and it had turned out that Barnes had not even been the one responsible for the U.N. bombing. He had been framed by the man who had impersonated the psychiatrist to get at Barnes in the CIA facility. She didn’t know who he was, but Steve had explained on the phone, when asking her to get his gear, that the man intended to release other Winter Soldiers and had been using them to get at Barnes. After that information, she didn’t think twice about helping Steve, but was pissed that Stark had apparently not even listened to this information. Now he was legitimately allowed to go super-heroing all over the world, and Steve was in hiding and the Avengers who had stood by him were in cells on the Raft. It infuriated her.  
***  
In the air she had written two nearly identical letters, one to her mom and one to Everett Ross. They explained what she had done and why. That she had believed Rogers when he said Barnes was not responsible for his actions. That he was not guilty of the U.N. bombing or King T'Chaka's death. That another force was at work controlling things from the shadows. That the doctor, now known to be an imposter, had set Bucky off. That there were other Winter Soldiers that needed to be stopped. She had taken their gear from evidence and returned it to them, hoping they could stop the mastermind and Winter Soldiers and clear Barnes of the bombing. She explained that neither she nor Rogers would have felt the need to do this had there not been a shoot on sight order on Barnes. If there was a chance the man was innocent, he should stand trial before execution. Everything she admitted to technically counted as insubordination at best, treason at worst. She might be able to avoid jail time, but either way, she was fired. Before Ross realized she was gone without permission and froze her credentials, she had been able to log in to the server and see that Stark had brought forth evidence that Rogers had been right, apparently having finally either listened or found his own evidence that Steve had been right about the mastermind all along. Then, T'challa had brought in both Zemo and Stark from Siberia, explaining about the fight, the extermination of the other Winter Soldiers, and that Barnes and Rogers had vanished. Then, her credentials had been suspended and she knew no more.

She had arrived at the Carter a state in the middle of the night and woken her frantic mother up at two in the morning. She had explained briefly what had happened and that she was going to have to go underground for a little while. She had allowed her mother to get exactly 3 minutes of venting out of her, going on and on about why she had disagreed with Sharon's decision to enlist in SHIELD, and then the CIA, and why couldn't she have a normal life, find a nice guy and settle down and have a couple of kids like a normal person? Then Sharon had calmly said that she had her reasons, and handed her mother the envelope with the typed up letter she had written, explaining everything. She also left another envelope, sealed for Everett Ross, for she knew they would show up at the Carter estate looking for her, and she intended to be long gone, but not without leaving behind an explanation. A brief text to her cousin Kathy from a burner phone that she later ditched had confirmed that CIA agents had indeed shown up at the estate and brought her mother in for questioning, but that her mother had given them the envelope and had been allowed to return home after it was determined that Sharon was nowhere on the property and had left no evidence as to where she had gone. It sucked, but for now, her mother and cousins were safe and unlikely to be bothered much by her actions. The CIA would keep them under surveillance for a while in case she showed, but Ross must know that Sharon wouldn't be so stupid as to hang around the Carter property.

So now here she was, holed up in an old SHIELD safe house trying to get her bearings and having no idea what she was supposed to do. All her life, she had trained with her Aunt Peggy, then director of SHIELD, later moving on to more intensive training preparing to become an agent. SHIELD was all she ever wanted to do. She didn't want to coast on her aunt’s coattails, but she did want to carry on Peggy's legacy of bringing justice to the world and flushing out nests of Hydra and other terrorist cells. When she worked for SHIELD, she had been filled with a sense of righteous purpose and pride in belonging to the most advanced intelligence organization on the planet. SHIELD had been formed to carry on the work Captain America had started, built on principles of honor and patriotism, innovation and doing what was right. She had been on missions that resulted in disruption of human trafficking of teenage girls, the toppling of totalitarian governments run by cartels, and a massive takedown of sleeper cells of terrorists living in the US. She had had friends. She stayed in touch with her classmates Natasha Romanoff and Bobbi Morse and ate lunch with a group from analytics every day. She had been the first one Coulson had called when they had found the Valkyrie with Steve Rogers still inside, as the Carters had considered himself next of kin. She had watched as they thawed him out, had watched as he freaked out and ran out of the SHIELD facility. She had willingly accepted the downgrade from field agent to undercover neighbor to keep an eye on him, since she felt he was her responsibility and no one else had the right. 

She knew everything about him that Peggy had known, but she read through every scrap of information SHIELD had on him anyway. She began compiling her own profile on him as a man living in present day. Where he liked to eat, what music he listened to, how often he slept, who he talked to. She knew that it was quite likely that she was the only person in the world who knew him that well. But she had not been allowed to know him deeper. She had just enough passing conversations with him in the stairwell to keep up friendly appearances, but knew she had to turn down his offer for a coffee date, as much as she had wanted to go. She was lying to him about who she was and her intentions. She couldn't go on a date with him under those conditions. It wasn't fair to either of them. But she had wanted to. 

Then SHIELD had fallen. Infected from within by Hydra, probably from day one. All of her aunt’s work, all of Sharon's work, people she had thought of as friends, the very organization she had believed in enough to pledge her life to, her whole world all came crumbling down in one afternoon. It had to be done, she knew that. But she missed SHEILD. She missed the comradery and competence. She missed having a purpose. For a while after the Fall, she had waited to hear from pockets of surviving SHIELD agents about reforming the organization. There were rumors of such groups trying to link up to reform. But none contacted her and she hadn't been able to locate any herself. Bobbi went dark, possibly dead. Natasha was with the Avengers of course, but Sharon had been left adrift. So she had applied to the CIA where her skills could be used. They were suspicious of her, given SHIELD’s recent downturn in the minds of public opinion, but she had been cleared of any wrongdoing and hired. The job was ok, but her skills were mostly underutilized. She had a hard time making friends, especially after seeing so many from SHIELD turn out to be Hydra, so she kept her distance. The transfer to Germany had been almost a relief, but her solitude had deepened. She rarely went out or socialized, and most nights were spent watching TV or reading. 

She often wondered about Steve. In her mind, she always thought of him as simply Steve. Not Captain Rogers, not Captain America. Just Steve, for that had been how Aunt Peggy had spoken of him to her. She had the small picture Peggy had always kept in a drawer, the picture of Steve Rogers before Project Rebirth when he was still frail and sickly. She could hardly believe it was the same man. "This is one of the few pictures of Steve Rogers, the man I loved. There's plenty of Captain America, but never forget, behind the shield, he was always Steve Rogers," Peggy had told her. She wondered if he was safe and what he was doing. Was he happy? With friends? Dating anyone? That last one always made her heart hurt. She had known he was very lost and lonely when he lived next door to her and he never dated, but surely he must have had some successes by now? Many nights across the hall, she heard the mournful sound of 1940s big band music coming from behind his door, knowing he was sitting in the dark listening, trying not to cry. On those nights she had cried for him, wishing she could go to him.

Then Sokovia had happened and SHIELD helicarriers had arrived. She saw him and the Avengers on TV fighting Ultron and his minions. She had cheered inwardly as she watched on TV, while also feeling a stab of jealousy and hurt. It took no less than 500 people to run those helicarriers. They had to be SHIELD personnel on them. So why had she not gotten a phone call to come join in? She later heard that technician Cameron Klein had been on the carrier. Couldn't someone have come found her? After the battle and the death toll had come in, and the SHIELD carrier had been relegated to wherever it had been previously, it was with bitter remorse that she turned her back on SHIELD forever. They were done with her, and do she was done with them. Steve had a life, and the last time he had laid eyes on her, his frosty acknowledgement of "neighbor" told her she needed to know of what he had thought of her. Their paths had diverged and he hadn't looked back. But she had. She had wanted that coffee. She had wanted his blue eyes to look at her with earnest interest as they had in their hallway. But she had missed the chance. 

Or so she thought. Peggy's death had come as a shock in its suddenness but not unexpected given her condition. She had texted Natasha for Steve’s number and had sent him the fateful text. "She's gone. In her sleep." Neither of them had had the chance to say goodbye. He had texted back. "On my way now." She had texted back the details of the funeral and he had not responded nor asked who it was texting him in the first place. She figured he had ways of verifying it. The day of the funeral had been wrought with anxiety for her. When her cousins had asked her to do the eulogy, she had jumped at the chance, but then realized she'd be less than twenty feet away from him delivering it, with her own deceased aunt who he had loved another twenty feet away. He was going to see her for the first time in two years, and she him. And he was going to know who she really was. Was she ready for that? She barely slept the night before and reworked to eulogy three times before letting it rest. When she had approached the podium at the funeral, she forced herself to look at him. Sam had nudged him to look and he had. And that same look of shock washed over his face that she had seen on him the night Nick Fury was shot and she blew her cover to help. The shock and betrayal. Followed by the hard irritation and flash of anger. Her heart had sunk both times, but she forced herself to speak. Peggy deserved her best. And so she had spoken. She talked about her beloved aunt who had inspired her, while looking at Steve as she explained why she had kept her relationship a secret. As she spoke, to those gathered but mostly to him, she saw his face soften. The anger and betrayal left his eyes and the sadness she knew floated in her own eyes mirrored in his as he realized that she truly was Peggy's niece, and just like him, she was missing her terribly. In that moment, she saw the forgiveness in his eyes, the acceptance, and even the gratitude as she told him Peggy's words on standing your ground when all hope was gone. For the first time in two years, her heart didn't hurt at the sight of Steve Rogers.

She sat down after the eulogy and tried to ignore his constant glances in her direction. After the service, he remained inside while she filed out with the family, stopping to greet Natasha with a hug.

“Hey tramp, long time no see,” she had joked to her old classmate.

Natasha smiled. "I'd say something equally insulting in return, but it would fall flat. Although I do want to know why you never told me your aunt was the director at one point. Given my background, you know I don't judge. I'm sorry by the way."

Sharon just shrugged and looked away.

“I told him to call you. Did he?” Natasha asked.

Sharon looked at her with surprise. “Nope. But that's not surprising. Nobody called.”

“I would have if I thought you wanted a call,” Nat replied. “As for him well, he's bull stubborn. Don't take it personal.”

Sharon smiled at that and hugged her old friend. They said their goodbyes and Sharon stood to watch the hearse leave, silently saying by goodbye to the only person who had ever understood her, more so than her own mother. She had felt tears well up and she blinked them back, waving goodbye to her cousins who were also leaving.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” his voice had come from behind her, startling her. But she didn't turn around.

“I wanted to tell you from day one,” she replied softly. “I thought you'd want to know you weren't completely alone. But Fury wouldn't let me. He said it was better for your health if you didn't think we were breathing down your neck.”

She turned to face him. And her breath caught in her chest. He had taken off his suit jacket and slung it over his shoulder. Good god, he was gorgeous. She had known he was handsome from the wealth of pictures of him as Captain America, especially the vintage USO posters. Peggy had always described him as good looking. But the real flesh and blood man before her was just as alluring as she remembered from when she lived next to him. Only in a suit, that Greek god factor got dialed up a few notches. Chiseled jaw and blue eyes, and a body she knew for a fact was ripped. When he had stayed in the cabin, initially he had slept in a t-shirt and sweatpants. But when the other occupants had left and he had it to himself, he had taken to sleeping only in boxers and walking to the kitchen to make breakfast in just his shorts. She had rewound the video several times, just looking at his abs and biceps. She rarely let herself be so taken with a man that she forgot how to breathe, but Steve Rogers had the unnerving ability to do just that to her.

“Look, Steve...uh...captain. I'm sorry. I never meant to cause you trouble. And I'm...I'm sorry about Peggy.” She looked away.

He sighed. “Yeah me too. I guess this is tough for you too?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her grief was still too fresh and his presence in front of her was throwing her for a loop. And from the way he was shuffling his feet and jamming his hands in his pockets not quite looking at her, she got the impression that he was feeling somewhat as nervous as she was. Their last encounter had been tense and frosty, and a lot had happened to both of them in the last two years. She felt like she knew him well enough, but understood that he really didn't know her. The question was did he want to.

“She was more like a grandmother to me,” Sharon started hesitantly. “My own grandparents passed away when I was pretty young. My dad too, in Desert Storm. Mom was kind of thrown for a loop and well, Peggy took us in. She was a godsend.”

“Is your mom here?” Steve asked looking around.

“No, she couldn't make it and she's sick about it. She's been on a missionary trip down in Belize for the last three months. Ironically she's due to come home next week. But they couldn't get her a flight in time to make the funeral.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Sharon.

They both stood in another awkward silence shuffling their feet before Steve finally said, “So when I asked you out for coffee, did you say no because you were on assignment or because you didn't want to go?”

She looked up at him in surprise and her eyes met his. At first he thought she was not going to answer but then she said “I was on assignment.”

“So you did want to go?”

(More than you'll ever know).  
“Yes. But I didn't want to go anywhere with you under false pretenses. I was already lying to you about who I was. It wouldn't have been right.”

“And now that I know who you are,” he said somewhat hesitantly, “if I were to ask again, would you still say no?”

“Are you asking?”

“Sort of. Well yeah.”

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a somewhat ironic smile. “Well you know I can't help but wonder why you asking. Last time I saw you, you seem kind of pissed at me.”

“Well I was,” he shrugged. “And for a while after that too. I'm just kind of sick of being lied to, you know. Not knowing who I can trust or who is a friend and who isn't. This isn’t the world I'm used to and it's not how I am used to operating. I uh, well, really liked you. And for you to turn out to be spying on me for SHIELD, well, it was sort of the final straw, and if you remember a lot of things were going on...”

“Oh I remember,” she said grimly, holding out her arm where there was still a faint scar where Rumlow had slashed her. His eyes widened in shock and he reached out to take her arm. She tried not to think about how warm his hands were touching her skin.

“How did this happen?” he asked softly.

“Your buddy Rumlow. I was in the control room the day the Trisk fell. That was an impressive speech you gave by the way. Anyway, Rumlow went up to a technician who is a friend of mine and ordered him to launch the helicarriers. When he refused to do so, hilarity ensued. I got this trying to stop Rumlow. God what an ass. Ultimately it did no good.”

She gently took her arm back and rubbed the scar before looking up at him again. The look on his face was one of somewhat pained impressiveness.

“Thanks. Thanks for standing up against Hydra. If you bought us even a few seconds of time delaying those heloticarriers from launching, then thanks.”

Her eyes hardened. “Hydra. The bane of Aunt Peggy's existence and then mine. Few things make me want to strangle something with my bare hands like the words ‘Hydra agent.’”

He looked a little surprised, but then smiled.

“So uh...that coffee?”

She blinked in surprise, but then smiled. “Sure. I mean, if you really want to go. It's probably overdue anyway. And I’m…well…not busy. At least not busy spying on you.”  
He had laughed a little at that.

They had turned and walked together down the street looking for a coffeehouse. Steve had texted Sam to let him know where he was going and then received a text from Natasha saying that she was at the airport flying to Vienna for the accords. The funeral had been in the morning and the accords had been scheduled for the afternoon, and so Natasha should have a decent amount of time to arrive for the signing. And since he wasn't going, that had freed up most of his day to spend with Sharon. In lieu of a coffeehouse, they settled on a restaurant and ordered lunch that just happened to include coffee. She smiled at the memory of the day. He had watched with fascination as she had shoveled five spoons of sugar into her coffee.

"Having a little coffee with your sugar?" He quipped.

"Nope." She replied. "Having a little coffee with my creamer."

She added a generous amount of cream to her cup.

"Why would you butcher perfectly good coffee like that?"

She glanced down at his mug of black coffee.

"You know, there's been some recent studies that seem to indicate that drinking black coffee can be tied to psychosis." She sipped her over sugared, over creamed coffee, just the way she liked it, but kept her eyes on him with a smirk.

"Is that right?" He asked, unconcerned.

"Yup. Saw it on the Internet."

"Ah, well then it must be true," he snorted.

She bit back a giggle that she was afraid might make her sound like an airhead and asked about the Avengers instead. He had told her about the division of opinion amongst the Avengers, and how he had argued with Tony Stark. He explained his reasons for not wanting to sign and Sharon had to admit that after everything she had personally witnessed and experienced in her life that she had to agree with him. Perhaps the Avengers had needed some oversight and SHIELD had provided that early on, but without SHIELD to direct them, then who was qualified to tell people like these what to do and what not to do and when to do it? There probably had to be someone overseeing them, but politicians have their own agendas and her own distrust of politicians led her to believe that whoever ended up as oversight of the Avengers it couldn't be a politician from any country. She had to admit that a lot of these problems would likely be solved if SHIELD would just reform and the Avengers operate under them as before, but that probably wasn't going to happen at this point.

Conversation then switched to more personal details. He told her a bit about his life growing up in the Depression, which she found fascinating. He told her about his part-time job working at a corner grocery store not far from his mother’s apartment in Brooklyn, and where he had attended high school and then later art school, hoping to work as a cartoonist before the war had broken out. She remembered Peggy telling her that Steve could draw quite well, but had not known that he had been an art student.

“Do you still draw?” she had asked.

He shrugged. “I probably should more,” he responded. “It would probably be relaxing and help me work out some of the noise that constantly screams around in my head. What about you? Any hobbies?”

She laughed. “I sort of liked fooling around with photography when I was younger, but really what I'm into now is that adult coloring book craze. Have you seen them in stores? Peggy's doctor thought that if she took up adult coloring, it would serve as a way of focusing her mind and providing some stress relief. He said they were trying it out in hospitals with patients confined to hospital beds, and they had found some success in distracting them from their pain, and helping them to focus on something creative. I was willing to try anything that would help her mind, of course, so I picked up a few books and a couple of those expensive prismacolor pencils. Sure enough, she enjoyed it. So I picked up a few for myself and anytime I would visit her even if she couldn't quite remember who I was, we would just sit together coloring in a coloring books and watching daytime television. Best time I spent with her, really.”

“I saw those books in her room,” he admitted. “I thought they were pretty. I figured one of her kids had given them to her. She did seem to enjoy it.”

“Yeah. Anyway, that's the extent of my creative talent. Coloring in coloring books so as not to lose my mind with stress and start chasing small animals with the Weedwhacker.” She finished off her salad as he laughed.

“Was I that much of a hard assignment?” he quipped.

“Well,” she said softly, growing serious for a moment,” I did worry about you. You weren’t really making friends and it seems like you were having a hard time adjusting. That, and you had come out of World War II, in your mind, like only a few months prior and we know now that soldiers from that war and a lot of subsequent wars suffer from posttraumatic stress disorder. PTSD and isolation and lack of connection with community, well soldiers have committed suicide over less.”

“You thought I was suicidal?” he asked softly.

“I figured you probably weren't, but I wasn't ready to take the chance,” she said. “More than once I just wanted to go across the hall with a big bag of Chinese food and plop on your couch and keep you company. You seemed pretty lost.”

He smiled at that. “You should have. Thanks to my ramped up metabolism, I have to consume something like 4000 calories a day. I never turn down free food.”

She had laughed at that and they had continue talking for what seemed like hours. They only finally got up to leave when they started to get dirty looks from the waiters. Then they had walked. Walked and talked. Sharon couldn't remember the last time she had spent this much time with a guy just talking and learning about him. She thought she knew most of what there was to know about him, but she learned that day how much she really didn't know. And he was learning about her too, and her family, which she knew allowed her to give him some insight as to what Peggy's life had been like after he had crashed the plane and vanished out of her life. At first, she had thought that describing Peggy's life with another man and having that other man's children might be too painful for Steve, but it didn't seem to bother him, in fact it's seemed to give him a certain measure of peace. She told him what she knew of Peggy's career in the SSR and later in SHIELD. She told him about her Uncle Gab, who had also fought with him in World War II, and all that she knew about her cousins.

“When did she start showing problems with her mind ?” he asked quietly, as if he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

Sharon thought for a moment before answering. “I would say definitely by the time I was about fifteen, but maybe as much as by the time I was seven. It was little things at first, of course, the usual misplacing your keys or leaving things in odd locations and finding them weeks later. Everyone does that to a certain extent, but then she began to forget the words for things. I remember one time we had company over at the main house, and she asked me to please bring in from the dining room those things that you sit in, and for the life of her she couldn't remember the word ‘chair’ until I asked her if that's what she meant. Then sometimes, I would stay with her after Uncle Gabe died, and my cousins had moved out. Since my mom was frequently doing charity missions in South America, nobody minded me staying with her. I didn't mind staying with Aunt Peggy either because that's when she would usually show me the good stuff, like how to do a roundhouse kick to someone's head, or how to fire an Uzi at the gun range. She figured mom wouldn’t necessarily approve of that, so we kept it on the down low. Anyway, I remember she had started to hear things that no one else could hear, like she would swear someone was having a conversation somewhere, and I knew it was just the two of us in the house. Well, I remember one night, I was sound asleep in my cousin Kathy's old room when suddenly she was shaking me awake I had always known Aunt Peggy was a secret agent of some kind, but I had never actually seen her in secret agent mode. She had a pistol in the other hand and was telling me to quickly get up, that someone was in the house. I don't mind telling you, I was terrified, because I could tell she was scared too, although hiding it well. I jumped up behind her and grabbed Kathy's baseball bat from under the bed. She had been training me to fight by that time, and I guess I was the equivalent of a black belt in some form of martial arts, but I had never had to use it before, and I was freaked out. I remember following behind her, keeping one hand on her back like I was afraid she would run off after some bad guy and leave me standing on the stairs. And it was crazy, because she was like 83 at the time. I didn't know many people that age who would be willing to take on home invaders. But she kept insisting that she had heard voices downstairs, and honestly, Steve, I couldn't hear anything. That was the night I learned how to check every nook and cranny for someone hiding in a building. We looked everywhere, and both of us were on high alert. We never did find anyone. And none of the perimeter alarms had been tripped. I wanted to call my cousin Greg, her son, but she didn't want anyone else in the family to be on the property just in case there really was trouble. I could see she was terrified, but not for herself. I knew then that she was scared something would happen to me. We looked again and again until the point I was crying, begging her to see that there was nobody there and couldn't we call somebody? I knew she didn't want to call SHIELD with me there, but finally she did, and they sent out a team to search the area.

“Did they find anything?” Steve asked

“No, nothing. No footprints or tire tracks or any evidence that anyone was there who wasn't supposed to be. I remember an agent took me aside in the kitchen and asked me what had happened, and I told him everything I just told you. He asked me if I thought anybody had ever been in the house at all, and I had to answer truthfully that no, I didn't think that had been. Besides, I had been asleep, I never heard anything myself. When I went into the living room looking for Peggy, I remember her sitting in her favorite chair with her shoulders kind of slumped, looking almost defeated. I went over and gave her a big hug, and the agent questioning her was asking her basically the same thing. Could she have been mistaken and there was never anyone in the house? She was adamant that she had heard something, but had to admit that there was no evidence. One of the agents stayed with us the rest of the night, and through the next day. But it wasn't until later that I understood that that might have been one of the first real signs of the dementia setting in. One of the side effects of that is hearing things that aren't there, or auditory hallucinations. Then she began to forget important things, like details of missions. I had just joined SHIELD at that point, and was completing my college degree in criminal psychology when she was gently asked to step down as director by the board, due to declining health reasons and Nick Fury took over. I had the option of living in SHIELD provided apartments or housing, but I opted to stay up at the main house with her on the Carter property. Honestly, I think the rest of the family was relieved, nobody wanted her to be alone. Then it started getting dangerous, like she would leave the coffee pot on or the oven. One day, when I had to go back to the house because I forgot something, I found her asleep on the sofa and the toaster oven on fire because she forgot she was using it. That was a rough day for everyone, especially her. It was pretty obvious that the point that it was too dangerous to leave her by herself at the house, and she reluctantly agreed to go in assisted-living. Then Greg moved his family into the main house and I moved back in with mom temporarily until I got my own place. Which was watching a 98 year old soldier from WW2 who was moving in across the hall. You pretty much know the rest.”

Steve was looking off in the distance and nodding slowly. “When I would visit her, sometimes she knew what year it was and that I was back in present day, and other times she thought we were back in 1945. I knew that, in a lot of ways, she wasn't the same woman I had known and loved, and that really I had said goodbye to that woman 80 years ago.”

“Still hurts, though,” said Sharon.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

They had arrived at her hotel when he asked her when she decided to join SHIELD.

As they walked into the lobby, she said “Well my mom was against me enlisting, but Aunt Peggy supported me of course. She got me my first thigh holster.”

Steve chuckled. “Sounds practical.”

“And stylish,” she countered with a smirk.

She pressed the button for the elevator and turned back to him.

“So where does the CIA have you station these days?” he asked.

“Berlin,” she said. “Joint counterterrorism department.”

He looked slightly impressed as he nodded. “Right. Sounds fun.”

She smiled, “I know right?”

He nodded and then gave her somewhat sheepish smile as if trying to decide whether not to say something before he finally looked at her and said, “I've been meaning to ask you….when you were spying on me from across the hall...”

“You mean when I was doing my job?” she countered with affectionate snark.

He nodded with a smile of resignation before asking, “Did Peggy know?”

Sharon sighed. She figured this question was going to come up eventually if she ever got to have a conversation with him, and she was rather surprised it hadn't come up earlier. She looked at him with sympathy and understanding.

“She kept so many secrets,” she replied, shaking her head. “I didn't want her to have one with you.”

She'd left out the part about being afraid that admitting to Peggy that Steve Rogers was her assignment that it would either upset her, or would cause Peggy to accidentally slip and let Steve know. She had idolized aunt, but the older woman was slipping too far mentally to be trusted with top-secret information anymore, and while it was very true that Sharon had not wanted to put her aunt in the position of lying to Steve Rogers, it was equally true that she wasn't sure her aunt would not interfere accidentally. Perhaps that bit of information hurt Sharon more than anything else, and for the sake of sparing him, she chose not to mention it, although surely he must be thinking about it. He had not been blind to Peggy's condition himself.

The elevator chimed behind her.

“Thanks for walking me back,” she said.

“Sure,” he said with a nod and another one of his disarming smiles that frankly should be illegal.

They had spent the entire day together and realistically should part ways now, but Sharon found herself unwilling to get in the elevator and leave him behind. Her eyes locked with his, the strangest feeling that he felt the same way. She knew she wasn't supposed to, but God help her, she liked this guy. And she didn't just like him because he was Captain America or because of her connection with him through his past with her aunt. In the month that she had spent studying him, even sneaking into his apartment to do her laundry unbeknownst to him, while sifting through his drawers looking for signs that he might be going off the deep end, which she had found instead was a fairly decent guy who didn't leave his crap everywhere and honestly wanted to help anytime he saw someone in need of a hand, whether it was their landlady trying to take the garbage out, or stopping a city from being hefted into the sky by a homicidal robot. He was decent and kind and thoughtful, good looking to boot, and there was a quality about him that made a person want his approval simply because if a good man like him approved of you, then you couldn't be a total fuck up like she often felt.

And now he was looking at in the same way she knew she was looking at him, and there was something in his eyes that shifted suddenly. His pupils dilated slightly in response to how she knew her own were doing the same, and he looked as if he was ready to say something, but wasn't sure if he could get it out in time without sounding like a dork. She was on the verge of asking him if he wanted to come up to her room and maybe continue talking (or maybe something else, though she gave herself a mental shake to clear her head of that image) when a voice came from her right.

“Steve?”

They had turned to see Sam Wilson standing there almost apologetically.

“Something you got to see,” he said.

“What is it?” asked Steve.

“The accords. There was a bombing,” Sam said. “It's on the news.”

“Crap,” Sharon muttered as the elevator door started to close. She reached out her hand to stop the door and motioned for the two men to follow her. “We can watch it in my room,” she said. “I'll need to call into the office and see what's going on.”

Wordlessly, the two men followed her and suddenly the prospect of bringing Steve back to her hotel room took on a whole new meaning. She was overcome with a sudden irrational hope that she had not left any underwear lying around. She wasn't a slob, but she wasn't necessarily neat freak either. Not like Steve, if the condition of his apartment across from hers had been any indication. She flipped on the television to the nearest news channel as soon as they walked into her room. Sure enough, there was the image of a burning building and reports that the Wakandan King T'Chaka had died in the blast. She dropped her handbag on the bed and went for her phone to call her supervisor as the two men watched in horror. She suddenly remembered that Natasha was supposed to be in that building, having left for those meetings just a few hours ago. She hoped the other woman had made it out of OK.

As the two men continued to watch, she spoke with the supervisor on call at the Berlin office. "Who's coordinating?" she asked, trying to ignore the sight of the building on fire on the screen. She continued back and forth until her clearance was approved, as well as managing to secure plane seats for Steve and Sam, right as the newscaster on the screen had indicated that the suspect was one James Buchanan Barnes and showed the grainy image of the Winter Soldier. She saw Steve’s shoulders slump and she resisted the urge to go over and give him a hug. This had to be killing him to see his friend accused of such a heinous crime. She was only thankful that Aunt Peggy wasn't here to be watching the news now. Hearing that Bucky was also still alive and possibly responsible for the bombing would have really upset her.

She hung up and came to stand between the two men. It was not lost on her that if they had agreed to sign the accords, they might have been in that burning building themselves.

“I have to go to work,” she told them.

They had gone back to their own hotels to pack, and she had changed out of her dress into travel clothes while firing off apologetic texts to her mom and family. She met Steve and Sam at the airport, and they took the same flight to Vienna. It was a three hour flight, so she and Steve had ended up being able to spend more time talking, though it was not the way she would have wanted it, and it mostly centered around Bucky and the fact that there was little Steve could do to intervene. She could see that he hated being hamstrung this way. When they landed, Sharon agreed to find out what was going on and meet the two men at a nearby bar. Which she had done. She had warned Steve that law enforcement had orders to shoot Barnes on sight, which she realized later had probably changed everything about how Steve would handle the situations that followed. Likely, if he had thought they would take Bucky alive, he might not have been so quick to defend him against the swat teams and others who had gone after Bucky in Bucharest which had resulted in putting Steve on the opposite end of the law.

But when they had all ended up arrested and flown back to Berlin, she had been there to meet them with Everett Ross. She didn't particularly like standing across the line from Steve again, but she was determined to be the one that his gear, primarily the shield, was handed over to and she couldn't avoid it otherwise. But she didn't want anyone else's fingers on Captain Americas shield. She had run her own fingers over the smooth surface, finding the small dent near one side clearly put there by small arms fire before the metal had been cured and painted.

Peggy.

Her aunt had told her about seeing Steve kiss another girl and had fired her gun at him cowering behind the shield in retaliation as Howard Stark had dived for cover under a table. Sharon only regretted that security cameras had not been commonplace at the time. She would have paid money to see that.

She had locked it away with Sam’s wings and given Sam an invoice for his own armor.

"Bird suit?!" He read with indignation.

"I didn't write it," she shot back in her defense before surreptitiously pressing the audio button that allowed Steve to listen in on the interrogation of his friend. Then all hell had broken loose. Bucky had gotten loose and she found herself running down a hallway with Stark and Natasha, grateful her old SHIELD friend had survived the blast, to find herself tag teaming with them to fight Bucky, now on a rampage, who had dispatched all of them easily, including tossing her into a table, which shattered beneath her and ensured she'd have a headache for the next three days. She had been in the infirmary nursing a lump on the side of her head when her phone chimed with a secure text from Steve.

Any chance you could get our gear for us?

Meet me at the airport in two hours she had texted back with coordinates.

She had excused herself from the infirmary and told Ross she needed to go home and lie down. He had nodded sympathetically and given her leave. She had rushed down to the evidence lockup and badged her way through, grabbing a large canvas bag. There was no way to fake her access ID on such short notice so she had to use her own credentials. She had known even as she did it that she was giving up her job in the CIA for doing so. Oddly, she felt nothing, not even regret. She also couldn't believe how easily she just strolled out carrying a huge bag with Captain America’s shield and Sam Wilton's wings in it. Nobody gave her a second glance. She hopped into her VW Jetta and took off to her apartment. She had done the "flight of the bumblebee" run through the apartment grabbing her escape backpack and anything else she felt like keeping. Nothing of personal value was here, all that was back at the Carter estate in Virginia. It took her twenty minutes, then she had jumped back in her car to meet Steve and Sam at the airport parking garage.

She had tried not to burst out laughing at the sight of three men, one of them Barnes, packed into the ancient Volkswagen Beetle. Steve had gotten out to meet her and had to practically unfold himself out of the driver’s seat.

“I’m not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car,” she joked.

“It's low profile,” he said coming over to her.

“Good,” she said lifting the trunk. “Cause this stuff tends to draw a crowd.”

He looked down at the gear. “I owe you again,” he said quietly.

“I'm keeping a list,” she said. Then she looked over at Barnes sitting in the backseat of the beetle. Steve’s glance followed hers.

“You know your friend tried to kill me?” she said, looking back at his apologetic expression.

“Sorry,” he said genuinely. “I'll put it on the list.”

She smiled. They both looked down at the gear, knowing what it meant that she had taken it and returned it to him.

"They're gonna come looking for you," he said.

"I know." She had always known. And she had done it anyway.

He looked at her with real respect and her heart skipped a beat. "Thank you Sharon"

She wanted to reply, maybe crack another joke, find some way of making the heaviness of this conversation not so heavy but she couldn't seem to find the right words. At least none that wouldn't make her sound glib or trite. Instead she just nodded and gave him what she hoped was a companionable smile that said 'no worries.' Instead her eyes met his and the look he gave her was one he had given her before, but this time more intense. It was put longing. And desire.

Now she stopped breathing. She knew her own expression told him the same. That she felt the same. No more hiding from him, she decided. And apparently he decided the same thing, because he seemed to come to a decision. He moved closer to her, looped an arm around her waist and drew her in. The next thing she knew, his lips were on hers and the entire world stopped spinning. Her eyes slid closed and she surrendered to him easily. Part of her logical brain tried to chastise her for giving in so quickly to anyone, even him. It certainly wasn't in her nature to give in to any man this easily, but she found she had no defense against him. And God, he felt good. She leaned in more and brought her hand up to his head, running her fingers through his soft hair and her other arm looped around his broad, muscular back. He pressed her slightly harder and she bit back a whimper. His scent filled her nostrils, something slightly musky and piney, and uniquely him. He was gentle but insistent. And she knew that if they had been alone behind a closed door, this would escalate quickly. The tiny ember of attraction she had always felt around him flared into a full on bonfire and her breathing sped up. She noticed that his did as well. Reluctantly, she pulled back. She knew the other two men were watching, and she had to regain some of her dignity. But she didn't pull away entirely. She rested her forehead against his and felt his sheepish chuckle as if he had surprised himself.

“That was....” She wasn't sure how to finish the sentence. Awesome? Hot? Unexpected?

“Late,” he said with a smile.

“Damn right,” she agreed. It *had* been late. She had wanted him long before now and she realized now that he wanted her. But how? And why? Because of her connection to Peggy? Or had he wanted her before he knew, back when she was just his friendly neighbor? With sadness, she knew that she might never find out, because they both had to be on their way.

She knew she had to let him go. He had to get Bucky to safety and find out who was really behind all this. But damn. She slowly pulled back, letting her hand drop from his head to his well-defined chest, then arm.

“I should go,” she whispered looking into his eyes. He looked at her with longing.

“Yeah,” he said reluctantly. She hoped they would cross paths again, it was all they could do right now. She had to hustle to make her flight to the states before all hell broke loose if he couldn't get Bucky away. And before anyone realized that she had done. But she hoped when all this was done, she could see him again. Clearly they had a lot more to discuss. Her heart was heavy as she walked away from him and drove away, trying not to look in the rear view mirror and seeing him watch her leave.

After that, she had made it home and made her escape. And Steve and his friends had fought Stark and his, splintering the Avengers. Nobody died, but Rhodes was seriously injured. And now Steve was in hiding and so was she, with no indication of when either of them could come back up. There was no way to know for sure how to get in touch with him, let alone see him again, for he likely wasn’t looking to be found. And now here she was, at an abandoned dark cabin in the middle of nowhere, alone and with few prospects that didn't involve her ending up in a jail cell.

The memories faded from behind her closed eyelids like a movie going dark, and she opened them to the gloomy interior of the cabin with the sound of rain pouring down outside. She blinked back tears threatening around her eyes. She was lonely, and slightly afraid, and she wasn't out of trouble yet. She had to take stock of her surroundings. Searching for people inside had not included searching for equipment and provisions. And besides, crying was useless and unproductive, a sign of weakness she couldn't afford. She had made her choices. No sense crying about them.

She jumped up from the sofa and headed to look around the bedrooms. It was getting late and she was exhausted. She needed to decide where she was going to sleep. Most of the rooms looked like they hadn't been touched in a while and still had plastic sheeting over all the furniture. But two rooms didn't. In one room, she found evidence that the bed had been used somewhat recently and a thin jacket, covered in a film of dust, had been bunched up on the dresser left behind by the previous occupant. The name "Skye" was written on the tag.

Huh. Odd. Apparently named Skye someone had used this cabin after the fall of SHIELD. But whoever it was likely wasn't coming back any time soon. The dust on this jacket was several months old. Sharon didn't much feel like staying in the room herself if someone else had been homey enough in it to leave clothes behind, so she moved on. The second room was where she had figured to stay anyway. It had been the room Steve had used when he had stayed here. Tactically, it had been a good choice. It was on the top level and farthest away from the stairs, around a corner and easy to defend if anyone ever stormed the downstairs. Jumping from the window landed one on top of the AC unit, thus making it a plausible escape route. It also had its own bathroom. And maybe it was her imagination, but it didn't seem quite so dusty in here.

She dropped her bag on the bed and turned on a light. She retrieved a few cleaning supplies from downstairs, and within an hour had the room and bathroom mostly comfortable. She dug a travel bar out of her backpack, meant to provide a day’s allotment of calories, fiber and vitamins, (though it tasted like ass) and munched on it while sifting through some emergency clothes she had found downstairs as well, since SHIELD had always kept its safe houses stocked with potential necessities. She found a shirt and thin cotton pants that would do for sleepwear. After ensuring that the downstairs was clear and secure, and that the perimeter alarms were functioning, she went upstairs to take a shower, the first she'd had since leaving Germany really. She knew she had to smell funky. As she let the tepid water rush down her back and through her hair, she suddenly realized that if these walls could talk, they'd be able to tell her what Steve Rogers looked like naked, for he had showered in this bathroom too. She gulped, not sure she should allow herself to follow that line of thought. But she was tired and her defenses were down. She briefly imagined him there in the shower with her, kissing her again. And then Peggy's face flashed in her mind and it was like being doused in cold water. She knew it was wrong. She shouldn't feel anything but kinship, loyalty, maybe even affection for the man who had almost been her uncle. It was too weird. But she did feel something. She couldn't deny it. And she suspected he did too, if the kiss at the airport was any indication. But what was even crazier was, knowing Aunt Peggy the way she had, she suspected her aunt would not have been unhappy about it either.

She dried off, threw on the unfamiliar clothes, brushed her teeth and collapsed into the bed. The videos of Steve using this room that she had studied showed that he liked to sleep on the left side of the bed, so she felt herself naturally rolling to the right side. But the left side was bare and cold. He wasn't here. Nobody was here. She rolled back over, snatched the pillow he had used, and hugged it to herself, burying her face in it. If she used her imagination, she could almost smell his scent still lingering on it. But that had been four years ago. It would have long since dissipated. Still, she needed something to hug, so the pillow he had used would have to do. She was exhausted but she knew she was in for a night of restless sleep anyway. She still didn't feel secure here, she was completely alone in the middle of nowhere with no one she trusted to share watch duties with in case there was an attack in the middle of the night. She was still thunderstruck at what had happened to the Avengers, consumed with worry over what had happened to Steve Rogers and where he might be, and on top of all that, she had just thrown away her career, rendered herself a fugitive from the CIA, and was still reeling from grief over burying her beloved Aunt Peggy only a few days ago, to say nothing of not knowing when or if she'd ever see her family or home again.

Was it worth it? her mom had asked.

Sharon still believed that yes, it was. And she'd do it again. She had vowed, even as she unlocked the evidence room to grab the shield, not to regret her decision. That had been easy enough during all the action in the daytime in another country, especially during the kiss. At that point in her life, everything had felt justified. But now that she was removed from everything, hiding in the Appalachians, with Steve far away and God knows where, in a dark room with the sound of rain outside, now that the mental noise had stopped, she could truly grasp the gravity of her situation. Briefly it overwhelmed her and a sob tore from her throat. She buried her face in the pillow and cried. Normally she would be angry at herself for crying like a baby, but just this once, she'd give herself ten minutes. She could always chalk it up to exhaustion later. She had never felt so alone or lonely in her life, not since she lost her entire world when SHIELD fell, not since she was transferred to Germany and never made friends, not since learning her Aunt Peggy, her mentor and role model, had died. She couldn't even cry to her mother now, for she had to stay away from her family to protect them. She had no career, no purpose, no close friends, and nowhere to go. She was adrift and unwanted. She was a fugitive, a criminal, for helping the man whose mere presence calmed and called her soul. Where was he?

She wished more than anything that he would walk in through the door, maybe having decided to come hide out here himself. Would they talk? Or do something else? Would she agree to it if it was "something else?" Her mind kept drifting back to the kiss. It had felt so good. So right. So long overdue. She wanted him, desperately she knew, but she was also a realist. He might be intrigued by her, but he didn't need her, not like she apparently needed him. He had his own issues, his friends, his life, and currently she didn't fit in it. He might desire her but that was probably only because he couldn't have Peggy. As she curled into the pillow, her sobs subsiding, but not the lonely ache around her heart, she slowly drifted off to sleep knowing she would likely never see Steve Rogers again, and she'd best just stop thinking about him and put him behind her. Even if every fantasy she had since moving in next door to him had featured him in a starring role, even if she had that unexpected kiss to remember him by, he was gone from her. She needed to start thinking about where she was going to go and what she was going to do with herself from now on. She'd need to disappear somewhere, maybe invent a new identity. She couldn't spend her life pining for a man who was out of reach. Because one thing was for certain: no matter how much he might have desired her, wherever he was, he was not up all night losing sleep over her the way she was over him.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve Rogers simply couldn't sleep

He had spent every night since he had arrived in Wakanda tossing and turning, and tonight looked like it was going to be the same. He lifted his head and punched the Tempurpedic pillow into a comfortable shape, and flipped back down on it, feeling his body and head settle into what should have been a luxurious bed. The mattress was memory foam of some kind and possibly the most comfortable bed he had ever slept in, and the room, while simple by Wakandan standards, would easily be considered luxurious anywhere else. The bed was firm and soft at the same time. Sam had said of the beds here in T'Challa's palace "just the right combo of firm and squish. Great for making love on actually. That is if I had a girl." Steve had laughed but his friend's comment had actually added to the problem of why he couldn't sleep. He kept thinking about Sharon Carter, in ways he figured he probably shouldn’t, and Sam’s comment now had him including mental images of Sharon on one of these beds, specifically his, stretched out enjoying the luxurious feel of the pillow and mattress. In unguarded moments, he imagined himself in the bed with her, on top of her, inside her. Not that he knew what that felt like in the first place. Few people, if any, knew he was a virgin. He didn't advertise that fact. But he had a decent imagination, and he had been a soldier in World War 2. Certain "educational" materials had been readily swapped around camp, to say nothing of the wealth of even more advanced “materials” now available in today’s time thanks to the Internet and a particularly warped sense of humor on Tony Stark’s part any time he had found Steve’s tablet lying around. Naturally, Steve would not have really gone looking for such things himself, but despite telling a laughing Tony differently, he didn’t always delete them. They had added certain dimension to his fantasies that always seem to come up in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep. And Sharon frequently held a starting role in what had become some very vivid daydreams, even back when he had only known her as his pretty, friendly neighbor.

He shook his head. No no no. Get a grip Rogers he kicked himself. You'll never get to sleep this way. [Too late.] He felt the telltale stirrings in his groin threatening to tent out the front of his sleep pants thanks to his ruminations. They were certainly thin enough. Think of something else. Baseball statistics. The Dodgers are now in Los Angeles instead of Brooklyn. The time Natasha had dared Sam to wear her high heels and he did it. Anything but Sharon. He groaned and turned over onto his stomach hoping pressure would relieve the problem and eventually it did subside, but not his insomnia. With a sigh, he sat up. It was pretty obvious that he wasn't going to get any more sleep tonight. He really only needed about three to four hours of sleep anyway, but lately he wasn’t even getting much of that. Even though it was only two in the morning Wakandan time, he got up and pulled on some clothes and headed down the hall to the workout room. He and Bucky were holed up in a little used wing of T'Challa's palace that included several bedrooms, and a small kitchen, a workout room and a recreational communal living space. It had been built by T’Challa’s father, the late King T’Chaka, with the idea of housing visiting foreign dignitaries there, an odd move given Wakanda’s traditional isolationism that would have made North Korean look like a world party location and general lack of involvement in the world at large. When they had first arrived there, Steve had been astounded at the high end technology and luxury of the place, how it flowed seamlessly into traditional architectural designs that were distinctively African, but with technology that would make Tony stark turn green with envy. He had not known what to expect of the small African country hidden away in a gap between impassable mountain ranges, but it wasn’t this. The entire country was on par with Avengers Tower, and yet only 50 miles outside of the border of the country, people were still living in mud huts.

He figured Bucky was probably asleep in the room he had staked out down the hall, and not wanting to wake him, Steve moved quietly to the workout room to take out his anxiety and frustration on a punching bag. Or several. He found hitting something usually helped quiet the noise in his mind, but lately it wasn't working too well. He whacked on the punching bag for a good hour before finally stopping and resting his forehead on the bag. When he had first awakened from his nearly 80 year slumber in a block of ice, Steve was quite sure that nothing in the world would ever make him that miserable again. How wrong he had been! The shock of waking up in a SHIELD facility 80 years into the future, learning that all his friends were dead, his girl was 95 and dying, and that society itself had done a complete 180 turnaround from everything he had been raised to be and believe in had been rough enough. But he had managed to pull himself together and try to adjust. He had actually been quite proud of himself the way he had adapted to technology, and also of all the new and wonderful things to explore. Given his inquisitive mind, he was pretty sure he’d have killed someone for the Internet and his iPod filled with hundreds of songs and audio books. With a brief flash of memory, he wished his mother could have seen all of this, especially the advances in medicine and nursing. As overwhelming as it could be sometimes, he was thoroughly enjoying learning about what had happened in the world while he had been asleep, and watching movies and documentaries that had come out during that time. Had enjoyed listening to the music he had missed, well everything except disco and rap, and tasting new foods that would have then unheard of during his time that he found on every street corner now, like sushi and Greek food. He still felt terribly disconnected, though. It had never seemed to him as though he had fit in anywhere in the world during the time he had come up in the 1940s, not as a sickly civilian unwanted by most of the female population and cast aside by everyone else. Not even in the army where he had pledged his life and devotion did he feel part of something, for he had again been disregarded because of his physical infirmities and then later had been set apart from everyone else because of his super human qualities. But at least Bucky and the Howling Commandos had been his friends, his surrogate family.

To wake up and discover that he had lost them all had been a true blow to his heart. It was probably the reason why he had been so eager to sign on with the Avengers and work for SHIELD, especially when he discovered that Peggy and Howard Stark had founded the organization. If those two had set forth the organization of SHIELD in motion, and if the organization was still working to follow their ideals even today, then it was certainly something that Steve had no problem signing up for, even if he didn't always agree with Nick Fury's tactics. To discover that Hydra had been part of SHIELD almost from day one, necessitating that Steve bring down the organization his girl Peggy had founded in order to save the world, had been like losing his whole world a second time. Now the Avengers were split apart over fundamental differences, and it was killing him emotionally. It would have been no less devastating to have the Howling Commandos broken apart over issues that could have been fixed. What was even worse was that he had sort of thought of Tony Stark as a godson. He was Howard's son, and Howard had been Steve's friend. Maybe he had never been as close to Howard as he had been to the Commandos, but he had respected the man and it had been because of Howard that Steve had his shield and many other opportunities. He couldn't shake the devastated and then hate field expression on Tony's face when the two men had gone their separate ways over fundamental principles and the murder of Tony's parents, which had been devastating for Steve to watch too, culminating in a vicious fight that could have killed either or both of them. Not only did it hurt Steve to lose a friend in Tony but in a way, he felt almost as if he had let Howard down, even more hurtful when he had been told how hard Howard had looked for the downed plane in the ocean, a search that continued after his death that had eventually been successful. Howard had never given up on finding him, and Steve couldn’t even keep Tony out of trouble in return.  
In the battle in Siberia, Steve knew all too well that he could have killed Tony or Tony could have killed him. He knew that killing Tony would have devastated him, and haunted him the rest of his life, but he was equally saddened by the thought that if Tony had killed him and Bucky that Tony might not actually have lost sleep over it, given his hysterical and focused, murderous determination. That really hurt. Now he and Bucky were hiding in Wakanda, four of his loyal friends were locked up in cells on the Raft, he had no idea what had happened to Natasha after she helped them escape at the airport, he had no idea where Sharon was after helping him get his gear back, and he felt physically sick upon hearing that Rhodey was seriously hurt. He only hoped that the spider kid had made it out OK and that he had been sent home. Steve had felt a certain amount of indignation when the boy had told him what Tony had said, that Steve was wrong, and that the kid had not even questioned Tony's stance or asked Steve what his side was. The kid had not even been given the chance to disagree with Tony or consider that he might have agreed with Steve. Being from New York City just like the boy, Steve felt a certain amount of kinship with him and hoped that he wasn't too far gone under Tony's influence, for it was a good possibility that in a few years, he would make a valuable asset to whatever became of the Avengers.

In the meantime, Steve would settle for not getting the kid killed. He wanted to kick Tony's ass for bringing a child to an adult fight. Given the sound of the boy’s voice, he couldn’t possibly be out of his teens yet. Steve doubted the kid even shaved or had sprouted a proper chest hair yet. Just how much had Pepper leaving him had caused Tony to lose his mind that he thought there was any scenario where bringing a teenage boy to a fight like the one at the airport in Berlin was OK? Amnesty International fought against shit like child soldiers every day, and Tony willingly served one up in a fight between superbeings? What the hell? Steve felt physically sick at how overwhelming all of these things were in his mind and how much worse things could have turned out. They were very lucky nobody died and that Rhodey was the only serious casualty, although everyone was going to be traumatized emotionally. And there didn't seem to be any real way for him to fix it.

On the other hand, he had to admit that he was extremely grateful to Prince T'Challa for taking him and Bucky in. The Wakandan prince as Black Panther had followed them to Siberia still believing that Bucky had killed his father in the bombing of the Sokovia Accords at the U.N., only to learn the truth in the battle with Zemo that he, like the Avengers, had been masterfully played by the grieving madman. Vowing to renounce the all-consuming vengeance that had led him to hunt down a man innocent of the crime, T'Challa had captured Zemo and turned him over to Stark who had come limping out of the facility dragging Captain Americas shield.

That shield doesn't belong to you. You don’t deserve it. My father made that shield...

Steve didn't regret dropping the shield at the time. His actions perhaps were not worthy of the mantle of Captain America after that last fight with Tony, but he sort of resented being told he didn’t deserve it after all he had done in World War 2 and since he had woken up, actions he knew had saved more lives than had been lost, despite General Ross needing to put such a negative spin on everything. He knew after that that he could not wear the title of Captain America anymore with honor after the events of the last week, but it had still hurt tremendously to hear Tony invoke his father in accusation to get him to drop it. Seeing Tony carry it out of the facility had caused Steve to flare up in anger again, for if he did not deserve to carry the shield then Tony certainly didn't. He might love Tony like a nephew, but his actions were criminal in their own right. Steve had not been wrong about this whole mess in the end. It was not in holding to the principles of the America he pledged to defend to execute a man without a trial, as the CIA had intended to do to Bucky and as Tony had planned to do in revenge for his parents. Furthermore, when it came down to it, the Sokovian Accords were unconstitutional, as U.S. citizens should not be subject to the whims of an unelected panel of foreign politicians under any circumstances, nor be forced to give up civil liberties to do so. Besides Tony had not seem to mind giving Clint Barton a fair pass over the SHIELD agents Barton had killed while under mind control by Loki. Why did Bucky, his oldest and best friend, not deserve similar consideration? Tony had created weapons of mass destruction in the name of security. Twice. And more than once they had backfired. He created an artificial intelligence without hesitating for the purpose of more security for the world, and look where that had ended up? Had the American government fallen so much so that he now had to rely on the hospitality of a prince of a normally secretive and closed away nation in Africa in order to stay out of the jail cell? Fuck that.

He was still angry at Tony, but he recognized just how badly the other man must be hurting to even have considered half the actions he had taken in the last two weeks. For years, the Board of Directors at Stark Industries had wondered exactly what would happen to the company's owner should CEO Pepper Potts ever decide to finally walk away from Tony like everyone thought she would do years ago. Most expected a total breakdown of the company or Tony or both. Since she had, it appeared that the answer was that Tony would go off the deep end, even as she continued to keep the company together and deal with her own fallout. As Tony himself had said, Pepper could not reconcile her need for him to give up the Iron Man armor with Tony's need to keep on being Iron Man for his personal emotional reasons, and that the Accords would take the matter out of Tony's hands and turn it over to an authority in much the same way law-enforcement officers did every day, and would give him and Pepper the balance they needed to reconcile. Much as the wives of police officers learned, she could contend with Tony being Iron Man when someone else said he needed to be, not leave him to his own devices in which he went overboard. Personally, Steve hoped that Tony got some god damn counseling over all this. Clearly he needed it, especially now, even if Pepper went back to him. Hell, Steve figured he could go a few rounds on a therapist couch himself. Losing Peggy was still a raw wound on his soul, although he had truly said goodbye to her decades ago and the woman who had just died had been only a shell of the woman he had loved. He was glad to have had any more time with her, but she had been drifting away piece by piece for years.

And when he wasn't thinking of all that, he was thinking about Sharon. Sharon Carter. Peggy's niece. A woman just as amazing and beautiful as her aunt, with a friendly, snarky sense of humor and strong ingrained sense of loyalty, right and justice. Steve didn't like to admit that she had gotten under his skin. But he was still floored at the way she had basically committed career suicide without so much as a second thought to help him, Sam and Bucky. Not many people would do that, not for someone who once dated a great-aunt 80 years ago, not even if that person was Captain America. He was consumed with remorse that she had done what she had done for him, even though she hasn't seemed that upset about it at the time. But he was mostly upset and worried about the fact that she was likely now a fugitive too for helping him. She could be in jail and it would be because of him. Sure, she had made the choice to help him on her own and with full informed consent, but his decisions had put her in the position and he didn’t like it.

In fact, the more he thought about Sharon, the more in awe of her he was. At first, he had had to consider the possibility that his interest in her was only tied to her relationship to Peggy, which was in no way fair to her. But if he were truly honest with himself, he realized that his interest in her began long before he even knew she really was. He still remembered the first time he had actually laid eyes on her. He had been living in the apartment building they had both shared for about a week when he was coming in one morning from an early morning run. He had been coming up the stairs back to his apartment and she had been bounding down the stairs on the way down to her own run, dressed in a tank top and running shorts with her earphones already blaring some sort of workout playlist. He knew now that she had probably timed it to be leaving her apartment right as he was coming back for the purpose of running into him, but he doubted she had actually intended to physically run into him the way she had coming around the corner little too fast and slamming into him. She had bounced off his solid chest like a rubber ball, but managed not to fall and caught herself before he had. They had both apologized profusely to each other and gotten around to introducing themselves as neighbors living on the same floor, although she had introduced herself in her undercover persona as "Kate Holloway." She had given him the friendly "welcome to the neighborhood" and "see you around" before heading out on her run. He remembered staring at her retreating back (and backside) thinking to himself that she seemed nice and was rather pretty, but had brushed it off and gone on to his apartment to sit alone with himself and read. In the months that followed them living next-door to each other (and her spying on him), they had had a few run-ins and crossed paths, some of which she had likely set up, but some probably had not been. She was forever bringing his mail to him, saying that it had gotten mixed in with hers, although he figured now that she had done it on purpose simply to be able to talk to him and try to analyze him in person every so often. On the other hand, there had been other run-ins that had to be random, as he couldn’t fathom how they could have been set up. There had been the time he had been coming home from a mission only to be met with what sounded like the yowling of a cat and heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. Her head had appeared over the balcony and, upon seeing him, she had called out "Hey Steve, grab the cat! Grab the cat!"

He had reached down just in time to snatch a frantic calico furball attempting to make a break for it by streaking at top speed down the stairs towards the building entrance. Turned out the cat belonged to one of their elderly neighbors and had slipped out of the apartment door just at Sharon had been walking by, and her attempts to grab the creature had been fruitless as it had escaped. She had come running down to meet him, breathless and trying not to laugh, and gather the disappointed feline from him to return to their neighbor, who had thanked them both for their quick reaction in saving Mr. Tiddlywinks from an unfortunate fate out on the street. Sharon had been wearing her scrubs and it was then that she had told him that she was a nurse about to leave for a 12 hour shift. His mind flashed briefly to the memory of his mother who had also been a nurse, although he also knew now that this has probably been deliberate in her choice of presenting an undercover profession. But he also knew that catching cats had not been in her job description and that she had done it to help their elderly neighbor just because she truly was a good person. Unwittingly, since then, she had started occupying certain roles in his daydreams, in every scenario from taking a walk in the park or going to a movie to more x-rated scenarios, which both excited him and caused him to be somewhat guilty and sheepish when he next saw her in person. 

Part of the reason he had been so angry to discover that she was a SHIELD agent, aside from the fact that she was spying on him and likely invading his privacy, was that he had believed that everything he liked about her was also a lie. But it had been after Peggy's funeral, when he has spent the day talking to her, that he realized a good deal of his initial perception of her and her personality had not been wrong. While she was actually a bit more edgy and sarcastic than he initially thought, in general, her friendly personality and good-natured humor had been the real deal. A lot of what he had liked about her that had led him to ask her out before he knew who she was still was legit, he now realized. He had thought she was just another stranger lying to him, that she had presented a carefully crafted front designed to play him. Now he knew that he knew her better than he had realized, and that she had truly been a good person who cared what happened to him. He only regretted that there had been a two year gap between when she had lived next-door to him and when he had finally gotten to know her, and that it had taken the death of the woman they had both loved in their own ways to bring them together long enough to realize it. He should have listened to Nat and called her two years ago, and he regretted that he hadn’t. At the very least, he would have had someone else to talk to who made it easy for him. Steve had had the opportunity to get to know a lot of different people, both before and after his 80 year ice nap. He had found to his dismay that his ability to talk to women had not improved since he woke up either. His fumbling attempts at asking Sharon out for a coffee when she had been his neighbor was proof of that, although he admitted that her gentle rejection of him had been thoughtful and considerate, and had not been a flat out refusal but have been more of a "maybe later" and had given him cause to hope that he might not have struck out entirely.

Prior to Project Rebirth, most women had not bothered to look twice at him. He had not been bad looking, but his small stature and sickly frame had not been very appealing to girls who had lived in the society that was still working its way out of the popularity of the eugenics movement. In the eyes of most women, he simply wasn't potential husband and father material, regardless of how good his personality might have been. Even getting a girl to date him was an experiment in humiliation. Pretty much every date he had ever gotten could be chalked up to Bucky’s interference, getting a date of his own and then asking the girl to bring a friend for his friend. Steve was grateful for Bucky’s attempts to set him up, but he never quite got used to the look of disappointment on his blind date's face when she first saw him. Bucky had lost his virginity at age 14 to a girl in his building when the two had snuck up on the roof one summer night. Steve had been happy for his friend but definitely jealous. Then another 10 years went past with little change to that dynamic, with Bucky having no problem getting girls and Steve not even being able to speak to one. On his 21st birthday, Bucky had quietly offered to find someone for Steve to "step over the threshold into manhood" as he had eloquently put it, which Steve knew meant soliciting the services of a girl who is typically paid to do such things, and given that money was extremely tight coming out of the Great Depression, that was a hell of an offer. Although he had been thoroughly embarrassed, he was also touched at his friend's attempt at thoughtfulness. But he had gently declined, explaining to Bucky that when the time was right, the right girl would be there and Steve wanted his first time to be with someone who was there because she wanted to be, not because she was paid to be. His friend has shrugged, only partially understanding but respectful of Steve's wishes and letting him know that the offer still stood. Bucky continued to try to set Steve up on dates with the friends of the girls he dated, but eventually Steve started to feel like the constant rejection was not healthy for his self-esteem and would occasionally refuse.

Then after Project Rebirth had turned him into a superhuman with the physique of a Greek God, the women around him did a complete turnaround and most made no secret of their availability to him, especially the dancing girls on that god awful USO tour. But under the circumstances, he was suspicious. If they didn't want him before, why did they want him now? He figured it was just about his looks once again, only this time from a different perspective, and he knew he wasn't wrong. In both scenarios, both before and after Project Rebirth, women had not been willing to give him a chance to get to know him before making up their minds about him. After he had woken up to find himself in a new century, with new social rules and new technology, he had been completely floored. It had been hard enough to learn the "rules" of social engagement with women in the time he grew up in. Now he had to learn a completely new set of rules. Topics that would never have been discussed in polite company were now completely acceptable lunchtime conversation. Women, no longer afraid of pregnancy and no longer hampered by certain restrictive ideas about gender and worth, willingly had sex before marriage, maybe even as early as the first date after hooking up on a dating site. Social media meant that things nobody would admit to in his time, like depression or mental illness, we're now up for public display and discussion with near strangers. People were more cynical and oddly more insecure. In his time, a man with a degree who had read 200 books on a subject was revered. These days, he was ridiculed and disregarded, even as someone who had only read a few webpages on a topic would brazenly declare that he knew just as much as the degreed man and had an opinion on the topic that should be taken just as seriously, and even more alarmingly, WAS taken seriously. Politicians didn't even try to hide corruption and seemed eager to march off to war when, in his day, there was at least some attempts to hide scandals and Pearl Harbor had to be bombed before anyone thought seriously about entering a war. It was overwhelming and upsetting, not unlike being dropped on an alien planet. Steve suspected he might have an easier time living in Asgard.

But his thoughts drifted back to Sharon as they always did these days. Her silky blonde hair. Her sparkling blue eyes. Her high cheekbones that rounded her face when she smiled. Her bell-like voice that always spoke with an air of humorous irony. Those features and her personality had caught his attention before he knew who she was, but now that he knew she was Peggy's niece, he had naturally searched for similarities. Realistically he knew the two women, given the nature of their relationship, only shared around 10-15% of their genetics. During the day of Peggy's funeral when he had spent hours talking to Sharon, she had told him that Peggy and her brother, Sharon’s grandfather Michael, had not looked much alike, with Peggy resembling their father and Michael their mother. Sharon herself resembled her own mother and the maternal side of her family, while Peggy was related on her father's side. In short, there was little to no physical resemblance between the two Carter women. Peggy had been curvier, though not overweight, with dark auburn hair and her quinsentential British accent. Sharon was slender and lithe, with honey blonde hair and a slightly northern American accent picked up from her colleagues at SHIELD academy. They were roughly the same height, and something about Sharon's eyes and nose reminded him of Peggy, but only when he really looked. Physically, there was no mixing the two up. Personality-wise, however, he saw some similarities as well as differences. Peggy had been sharp, poised, determined, classy and strong in a badass way. She had been caring and loyal, with a soft sort of sense of humor and a tendency to not hold a grudge. Sharon was edgier, more intense and focused, and a little more jaded by the world she had grown up in, and Steve suspected she wasn’t the kind to easily forgive a serious infraction. She could be overtly cynical, and not quite as poised, but like her aunt, was sharp, focused and loyal. And there was no doubting she could kick someone's ass when needed. She had trained with Natasha after all. That right there told him everything he needed to know about her fighting ability, although he had never seen it himself. And she moved like a fighter. Her long legs took powerful fast strides and she tended to position herself with practiced ease that spoke of regular physical training. In short, she was amazing, certainly more so than any woman he had met so far since waking up, unless one counted Natasha and Wanda but he thought of them more as younger sisters. And Sharon's legs were better.

He suddenly pictured those long legs wrapped around his waist and he slammed his fist hard into the bag hoping the sudden pain in his knuckles would snap that mental image out of his head. Did he even have the right to be lusting after her? Surely there was some sort of social protocol against picturing yourself in bed naked with a girl who might have been your own grand-niece had that plane not crashed in the ice 80 years ago, although he seriously doubted he would deel any of this had he lived to marry Peggy, be part of her family, and see Sharon born and grow up. No he wouldn’t feel the same. But none of that had happened, and he did feel something other than concerned affection for her. He wanted her, in more ways than one. Quite badly actually. He could only imagine what people would say to all of this, and he suspected Sam would have plenty to tell him about Freudian theoretical something or other from a counselor’s point of view. That is, if he weren't locked up on the raft as T'Challa had discovered yesterday. Which again, brought Steve full circle back to the plight of his friends and his current situation. He sighed and slammed the punching bag right off the chain and to the floor.

“Oh good it's not just me who can't sleep,” came the familiar voice behind him.

Steve whipped around.

James "Bucky" Barnes, also known as The Winter Soldier, feared brainwashed assassin, former U.S. Soldier and veteran of World War 2, and Steve’s oldest friend since first grade in 1925, was standing in the doorway behind him. Steve tried not to flinch at the sight of the other man’s missing his left arm. He had lost it decades ago when he had been taken prisoner by Hydra and fitted with a mechanical vibranium arm, which he had lost in the fight in Siberia with Tony Stark. T'Challa had retrieved it, but it was being studied by Wakandan scientists and it looked like Bucky wasn't getting it back. The secretive country was known to be the sole and only source of the extremely rare metal that was used in both Captain America’s shield and the arm Bucky had wielded as The Winter Soldier, as well as Prince T’Challa’s Black Panther suit. When they had first arrived, Steve was astounded to see the secretive country's wealth and technology hidden away from the rest of the world, and wondered how in the world they had ever been able to build an economy with these kinds of resources. T'Challa had explained that, since the country was the only source of vibranium, that they had been allowed to have complete and total control over the rare metal and its production, which meant that they had been able to slowly sell little pieces of it over the centuries for enormous prices. However, some people throughout the world were not content to pay the country’s prices on the metal, and this has resulted in numerous attempts from outsiders to infiltrate the country to steal some on the metal. Ulysses Klaw had been one such criminal who had been able to procure enough of the mineral to allow Ultron to create his vibranium body. But Bucky’s arm had been created over fifty years ago, which T'Challa took to mean that someone in Wakanda had been illegally dealing vibranium on the black market for decades and he was now put in the position of trying to uncover if this was still the case under his rule. T'Challa held the position that any vibranium not sold by the Wakandan royal family was stolen and thereby the property of the country to be returned. His special forces had mopped up the vibranium remains of Ultron and confiscated Bucky’s arm in hopes of tracking down who had supplied the vibranium. Although the tech people for Wakanda had promised to make him some kind of replacement, Bucky didn't seem too upset to only have one arm at the moment, having muttered something about “disarming” the deadly weapon that was himself. It was his right arm he still had and he was right handed, so he had joked about at least still being able to pee unassisted, but Steve tried not to think about how that missing arm had looped affectionately around his shoulders when they were kids and Bucky had been trying to comfort him from the latest bully ambush three blocks from their apartments.

“Sorry man, didn't mean to wake you up,” Steve said, going to retrieve the busted bag.

“You didn't. I was still up.”

“You need more sleep than you're getting.”

Bucky shrugged. So do you. And the docs here are afraid certain meds might....well... React badly with my psyche. And I can't sleep much on my own. Now if they'd prescribe some whiskey and a girl....”

Steve laughed. “Glad to see you still have some of your sense of humor.”

“Who says I'm joking? Speaking of whiskey and a girl, looks like you could you a prescription of that yourself.” Bucky gave him a glance, and then stared pointedly at the three discarded punching bags Steve had already demolished.

Steve sighed. “Well thanks to my metabolism, sadly whiskey is useless. I can't get drunk. And it looks like you've had a few doses of whatever Zola developed in attempt to recreate Erskine’s serum. So I doubt whiskey does you much good either.”

“Not really, to be honest. Zola didn't know Erskine’s formula. I hear he lost fifty guys testing out variations one by one. Whatever he shot me up with didn't kill me but....it didn't make me you. Except for the part where alcohol has about as much effect as soda pop, and I can now toss a man through a wall. I don't think I could curl a helicopter though."

"Just be glad it's not the same one he gave Schmidt. You could look like Red Skull right now. Which honestly might be an improvement." Steve gave his friend a joking grin.

Bucky rolled his eyes and flipped him the middle finger. Then he gave Steve a sideways look. "Well Erskine’s serum doesn't seem to have improved your looks any."

"That's not what the ladies tell me," laughed Steve.

At that, Bucky laughed. "Well in your case, female opinion on your looks is all that counts I suppose. Though I did notice girls looking at you a lot more than they used to. Please tell me you've finally taken advantage of that angle?"

Steve’s grin faded and he looked away, but didn't answer.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. "Still not yet? Steve, you're like 98 years old. I know you've had opportunity."

“Buck, you act like it's some kind of big deal, like my life will change overnight just by having a girl.”

“Well, it will. It did for me. What I can remember of it that is.”

“You were 14 and it freaked you out,” said Steve.

“Well shit, man, what guy knows what the he'll he's doing at 14? I was just thankful she didn't get pregnant. It got better trust me. Damn, I'd really hate to think that all the times I ended up trying to kill you under hypnotic control, that if I had managed, you'd have died a virgin and it would be my fault.”  
“Seriously? That’s why you’re glad you didn’t kill me? You didn’t want me to die a virgin? Gee thanks, pal.” Steve rolled his eyes in mock offense.  
“You know what I mean,” said Bucky.

Steve shrugged. “It's not that big of a deal.”

“Even with Peggy?” Bucky asked softly.

“We never got around to it,” said Steve. “In case you didn't notice at the time, there was a war on and we were in a camp full of men who already looked at her the way hungry wolves look at raw meat. It wasn't worth the chance of getting caught. She'd have had a worse time of it than me. She'd have been court martialed. I'd have just gotten a reprimand or something. I wasn't going to do that to her. And honestly I expected that...you know, after the war...,we'd....”

He broke off, unable to continue. Bucky looked away. Steve had filled him in on what Sharon had told him about Peggy's life, and that she had died last week, but they hadn't really talked about it any further.

“How are you holding up with all that?” Bucky asked.

“Ok I guess,” said Steve. “I really said goodbye to her in 1945. And she was slipping away when I found her again. And she had lived her whole life. I miss her. But she's been gone from me in pieces for a while. In some ways that's worse than losing her outright.”

“And you don't think you'll find anyone like her again? Not even worth looking?” Bucky asked.

Steve thought for a minute, and then looked at his friend.

“There aren't many women like Peggy, not many who can meet me head on the way she did. I was stubborn and willful all my life, not willing to accept the role society had decided I should adopt. And you know that. You got a front row seat to most of it. I was a weak, sickly man, not useful for much to anyone. Then I met Peggy, when I finally made it to the army. She was an officer by merit of forcing her superiors to not ignore her or her abilities. She felt like a kindred spirit, and she was impossible to ignore or write off as a fluke. She wasn't willing to be shoehorned into the role society decided she should play, and I loved that about her. I watched her battle sexism and prejudice, as I battled assumptions about my health and abilities. She was obstinate and determined. So was I. But the difference between me and Peggy is she made it on her own, without a serum, without anything special other than herself. I was in awe of her. I knew she had reached her position against every kinds of odds imaginable, using nothing but grit, skills and determination. She was like a talisman. An ideal. She was a goal that I tried to aspire to. But above all she was my friend and she understood me. She accepted me. And the kind of life I lead, well, it takes a special rare woman to be able to handle that, me and still not lose herself. That's hard to find. Clint is really lucky to have found Laura and make it work. Howard found Maria. Tony was making it work with Pepper until recently when it just got to be too much for her. And if Pepper couldn’t handle it, if running a Fortune 500 company is easier than dating or marrying an Avenger, then my options just narrowed substantially for myself.”

“Yeah well, consider that Tony is also an asshole. I don’t think Barton’s wife has to deal with half of the personality disorder Pepper Potts had to. As for Howard Stark, well, I still can't believe Stark found a woman he was willing to give up carousing for, and made *that* work. Long enough to father a kid that is,” said Bucky.

“Yeah,” Steve snorted. But then both men went quiet. Given what they now knew about Howard and Maria’s deaths, Steve knew it was unlikely they'd ever mention Howard Stark between the two of them again.

“Well”, said Bucky, trying to change the subject, “girls like Peggy do exist. What's the story on that blonde chick, the one who brought you the gear? The one with the mean hook kick? You know, the one you engaged in some lip tango back at the airport? You normally don't make the first move on a girl, especially one you've just met, so I figure you've known her a while?"

"*Lip tango*?" Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Dugan used the term once.”

“Right. Well her name’s Sharon. She was a SHIELD agent, now she's CIA. SHIELD assigned her to keeping eye on me, she lived next door for a while. She came running in when Fury...I mean when you...uh,” Steve broke off. 

“I remember,” Bucky said quietly. “That was her?”

“Yeah,” said Steve. “She's...she's Peggy's niece.”

The silence that followed was almost deafening as Bucky stared at him. When he finally did speak, it was almost a croak.

“Peggy's niece? The blonde girl is the niece of the girl you were going to marry back in 1945? That's Agent Peggy Carters niece? Steve....Jesus...”

“I know, I know, you don't have to rub it in,” Steve said, turning away to hide his scarlet face.

“You do know how weird that is, right?”

“Yes I do and frankly I don't think either of us have much room to complain about what is or is not weird in our lives. We're both 98 year old men who don't look a day older than 35, who've been experimented on and turned into biological super weapons. We're hiding out from the governments of the world, and a man I thought of as my godson, in a hidden away African nation that is this continent's equivalent of Atlantis in terms of technology and wealth, and nobody knows about how advanced this place is because the whole country has hidden from the world since Ramses was pharaoh. Prior to all this, the craziest thing that ever happened to us was that time we got stuck at the top of the hill on that old roller coaster at Coney Island for five hours. This thing with Sharon is probably the least weird thing in my life at the moment.”

At that, Bucky laughed a real laugh. "Man you aren't wrong about that! So what's her thing anyway? How'd you go from 'hey neighbor' to smooching her?"

Steve rolled his eyes but filled Bucky in with a somewhat shortened version of his history knowing Sharon, including finding out who she really was at Peggy's funeral. Bucky whistled softly.

“That's...I don't know Steve. I'm not sure if that's weird, awesome, some kind of curse on you or some odd proof of divine intervention, or all of the above.”

“I know,” Steve said with a slight hint of dejection.

“So why the long face? Weird or not, from where I was sitting, she was clearly into you. I guess she doesn’t think it’s weird,” asked Bucky. “Am I to assume you're down here pulverizing some punching bags due to some pent up frustration that could be remedied by a few hours alone with her behind a locked door?”

“Ok, first of all, I'm not sure I'm comfortable talking about Sharon in those terms. At least just yet. I mean, I don't know what we are to each other. We have a shared past because of Peggy but....”

“Steve, without going so far as to condone anything, remember she's not *your* niece. She's Peggy's. And I don't mean to sound harsh, Peggy was a great girl, threw me for a loop too, mostly because she's the first girl I even encountered who completely ignored me and focused on you instead of the other way around. Was an odd lesson to learn in empathy. But you knew Peggy off and on for two years. You two were close, and I know you loved each other, but by your own admission you never actually *dated* her, only kissed her once and never slept with her. Once the initial weirdness of the thing with Sharon wears off, you gotta admit, your past with Peggy really shouldn’t be that much of a problem between you and her.”

Steve looked at him sharply. Bucky held up his one hand.

“I'm not saying she wasn't your girl. We all knew she was. Like I said, we could all see you two loved each other. But under the circumstances, you didn't EXACTLY get a lot of time to form something long lasting and permanent. Like you said, she was an ideal to you, and you were probably the same to her. I know if you had married her, you would have had a good one. But over time, she'd have to get used to the fact that you snore like a chainsaw, you can be an obstinate ass, and you talk to yourself when you think you're alone. You'd have to get used to the fact that she could be bossy, and probably isn't so hot when she's in bed with a cold. Point is, you'd see faults instead of a goddess. The ideal would fade. You’d love her, but you’d see her as human. She’d see you.”

“Hey look I have no illusions about Peggy,” Steve said feeling his ire flare up. “I'd have loved her no matter what. And I don't snore.”

“Man, I heard you three tents away,” said Bucky. “And I'm not suggesting you two wouldn't have made it. I'm just saying you never had the chance to move past the starry eyed stage with her. Not saying you aren't grieving for her or anything.”

Steve frowned. "You know I never stopped to think about it, but Sharon must really be hurting too. You're right, I only knew Peggy for two years. It was enough to fall in love with her, but Sharon...Sharon is 28 and she's known Peggy all her life. Peggy was like a grandmother to her. A role model. I know she must miss her aunt terribly. And none of us have had a chance to process losing her since last week. We all got thrown into the shit storm literally the afternoon we buried Peggy. We only had a few hours of peace to grieve before all hell broke loose. In her place, I'd be reeling. I remember how it hurt to lose my mom. Sharon must be devastated. Then she only gets a few hours before having to jump into action to deal with a terrorist attack. Then in the midst of all that, you get accused of it, and she risks her job to give me the info I need to go find you before a bunch of agents with shoot to kill orders on you. And even with you accused of bombing the UN and killing a head of state, she still recognized that you were brainwashed, might not have actually done it, and deserved a fair chance. Her telling me that let me prepare to face the situation as I did. When we all got arrested and Zemo was questioning you, I wasn't supposed to have anything to do with it, but she put the feed up do I could see and hear. Again, could have got her in serious trouble but she knew how much it meant to me. When you went berserk, she rushed right in to fight you, knowing she'd probably get slammed or killed, to keep you from hurting any bystanders, which is how I guess you know she has a hook kick? You saw her hand over our gear, which she had to steal for us out of evidence and pretty much threw away her hard earned position in the CIA and render herself a criminal. She could be in jail right now for all I know. And she...she did it because of me."

“Damn man,” said Bucky. “She did all that for you? And all you done is kiss her? You're either a damn good kisser, or she's crazy, to do all that even for you. You sure she didn't do all that because Peggy might have asked or ordered her to?”

“No,” said Steve. “Like you said, I'm the man who dated her great-aunt 80 years ago. I'm not even the man who married her aunt. Another man was her uncle all those years. No way she'd do all that and get herself in trouble even if Peggy asked her to. Which I doubt happened. She did everything because she wanted to. Because it was the right thing to do.”

“Well, you do have that ethereal inspiring quality that makes people want to follow you. I did,” said Bucky.

Steve smiled. But then he sobered up. “Tony, Vision and Rhodey are at the compound, Clint, Scott, Wanda and Sam are in the raft, and I have no idea if the spider kid is safe, where Natasha ended up after helping us escape T'Challa, and I have no idea where Sharon is. I don't like those kinds of unanswered questions about the people I care about.”

“Honestly I suspect Romanoff is perfectly fine, wherever she is,” said Bucky. “Sharon probably too, that is if they aren't in custody. Do you have any way of contacting either of them?”

“I doubt either of them are answering their phones,” said Steve.

“Do you have their numbers? There are other ways of communicating besides phones,” came a deep voice in heavily accented English. Both men turned around to see Prince T'Challa, also known as the Black Panther and current regent of Wakanda, approaching them from the doorway having obviously overheard some or all of the conversation.

“Your highness,” Steve said with a nod of respect. Bucky nodded but said nothing. It was understood that T'Challa's pursuit of Bucky for the intent of killing him, believing Bucky responsible for killing his father T'Chaka, had been misplaced and as a result, the prince was giving them asylum, but Bucky was still reserved around him.

T'Challa came up to them and gave a slightly dismissive wave. “I'm not in court and my people are not present. T'Challa is fine under these conditions.” Steve and Bucky nodded again.

“As it bears on your conversation,” the prince said, “I know of the four who fought with you who are detained, but when I spoke to General Ross yesterday, he did mention that Ms. Romanoff is wanted for questioning, possibly charges, but that she was not in custody. I rather regret mentioning her role in...electrocuting me....now anyway.”

“You did what you thought was best given the circumstances and information you had at the time,” said Steve. “I doubt anyone faults you for that. Not even Natasha. In my experience that's not how she operates.”

T'Challa nodded. Then he said “I was going to come tell you both in the morning, but sensors indicated that you were both up. So I came to tell you now: my scientists have completed the reverse engineering of the cryo pods we retrieved from the Winter Soldier facility in Siberia. Rather ingenious design, though archaic and crude by our standards. At any rate, they believe they can easily create one of their own using Wakandan technology. We can 3D print the necessary parts by the end of this week and have it assembled in another week. A quick testing on a monkey to ensure it works, and we should be ready for your long nap, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully but Steve looked up in alarm. “Two weeks? That's uh...sooner than I thought. You know you don't have to do this, Buck. You don't have to go under again.”

“Yes I do, Steve,” Bucky said softly. “And you know it too. I'm not fully in control of myself. I've...killed people. Howard and his wife. Fury. I almost did in your friends at the UN. Including your girl Sharon. She was lucky I tossed her into a table and not a wall. All it would take is someone reading those fucking words again and I’d go on another rampage. There are women and children here.”

“Yeah but what are the odds someone is going to say 10 words in Russian here that will set you off here in Wakanda?” asked Steve.

“What were the odds they would say them at the UN?” replied Bucky. “Until we can figure out how to remove the programming, the best thing that I can do is voluntarily remove myself from the equation. And besides, the prince here does not need the political storm that would result from me losing my shit again. I heard you talking to the doctor, your highness. I know you're facing some political pressure about bringing us here.”

Steve looked at T'Challa. “Is that true?” he asked.

T'Challa shrugged. “It is not so much of a situation that you need to worry about it,” he said. “But consider this. This country, several hundred years ago, decided to remove itself from the world. The African tribe of people who are our ancestors happened upon the vibranium dome, and the shamans immediately recognized its power. It was a rare metal never seen before, and it could absorb all kinetic energy. But it does not merely absorb it, it releases as well. Every bit of energy that a piece of vibranium has ever absorbed from an impact or an earthquake, or anything really, can be released as both light and energy. I would imagine your shield could probably power New York City for a couple of years, Captain, given the number of hits you have taken. At any rate, our ancestors recognized the value of this rare metal that could not be found anywhere else in the world, and so our people staked out this area as their own. Several tribes splintered off, of course, to form their own villages, but the country that would become known as Wakanda united together, and separated ourselves from the rest of the world, which was rather easy to do given all of the mountains that surround our borders, and the fact that up until recently, few people had the vehicles or technology to come into the country in any other way other than foot. Cutting ourselves off from the rest of the world allowed us to avoid becoming corrupted by it. Europeans were never able to settle or conquer us. Even better, fewer knew about us. Remaining hidden and closed away was the best way to be left alone and not exploited of so many other small countries with valuable resources such as oil often were by larger nations. But we also recognize the necessity of being able to meet any invader one on one with technology should the need ever arise. My great-great-grandfather began to surreptitiously send some of the brightest and most capable young men out of the country to European universities, not an easy thing to do given the level of discrimination we experienced. In terms of educating our children at home, it was easier to recruit people from outside and bring them in, but eventually by the 1800s we had constructed a society where every Wakandan child was receiving a fairly extensive education, and later we set up our own university system when we had enough people return with knowledge to allow us to do so. We kept up the practice of sending people out into the world to learn, and they came back to us as scientists and doctors. I did so myself, in fact. In exchange for the vibranium in minuscule quantities, we were able to buy technology that we later improved upon. We made advances in medicine that would be the envy of the world today. But through it al,l we still remain isolated and closed off from the world, believing that it was the best way to remain safe and to protect our most valuable resource: the vibranium.”

“So what changed?” asked Steve.

“My father,” replied T'Challa. “He did not believe that we would remain safe in the world as it was currently changing without eventually joining it. He faced heavy opposition here at home, but my father believed that we could no longer remain anonymous and count on our closed off nature to remain safe from the world. Many did not believe this was a wise choice. We have technology that rivals Stark, we have a resource that could replace oil as an energy source, and as you have seen we are a beautiful and unspoiled natural society that integrates technology and comfort without destroying the environment. In Wakanda, we have found the true balance between nature and technology and living in harmony with nature, as well as advancing in innovation and science. The number of people wanting to come here would be exponential, and the number of people like Klaw who would want to steal from us would also increase. We have remained safe thus far because most people do not know about the country and what it holds. Once that secret is out, our task of defending ourselves and keeping our security and happiness will become almost impossible. My father believed this was inevitable, and the best thing to do would be to meet the challenges on our own terms and not anyone else's. For what it's worth, I agreed with him, and I intend to carry on his ideals about foreign-policy. But Sergeant Barnes is correct, I face quite a bit of opposition. And although I am currently head of state and rule as heir presumptive, I am not actually king yet. I can still be challenged for the throne. Continuing to bring Wakandan out of isolationism, and bringing two foreigners here to stay indefinitely, could pose a potential problem, although I do not fear a serious threat to my claim as King over it. I have trained all my life, from infancy, for the mantle of Black Panther. I will not so easily give it up simply because I have houseguests.”

“You don't automatically become king?” asked Steve.

“No, I must pass several trials and contests and prove myself worthy. It will likely be soon, but it is nothing you need to worry about,” assured T’Challa.

“If you don’t pass, then what?” asked Steve. 

“One of the many tribes from the other villages, such as the White Gorilla tribe, will contend for the Wakandan throne. It has been done successfully before. We adhere to our ancient tribal traditions of selecting a chief from the bravest, strongest and most capable warrior, not necessarily the son of the last chief. But again, no matter what grumblings some might have, I doubt any in Wakanda could truly oppose me. I have strong support in many matters, and the two of you actually do me a service by being here. When the two white foreigners remain here without incident, and we are not invaded for it, I can truthfully say to my people ‘look, nothing bad happened by having visitors here.’ It would go a long way to silencing my opposition.”

“Assuming I don’t blink out again,” said Bucky.

“Try not to,” quipped T’Challa. 

“On that note, I think I will try and get some shuteye,” said Bucky, moving to the door. “If possible I’d like to speak with the scientists working on the pod tomorrow?”  
T’Challa nodded and Bucky left with a wave, heading back to bed. Steve wondered if he should try himself, but then his mind flashed to Sharon again and he knew he was done sleeping for the night.

T’Challa turned back to Steve. “I believe your friend is making the right decision, Captain.”

“He is, but it doesn’t suck any less,” Steve said. “I do want to thank you for taking us in. I really hope we don’t give you too much trouble for it. And if there’s anything I can do to earn my keep around here, please let me know.”

“Not necessary but appreciated. I’d say you’ve earned the right to a vacation and time to recuperate,” said T’Challa. “You worry about your friends, though? It’s enough to make any man lose sleep. I see on your face the same worry that keeps me up at night, worrying about how best to lead my people.”

“We certainly have that in common,” Steve smiled grimly. “My friends in detention on the Raft…they shouldn’t be there. That place is for maniac criminals like Vanko, the one who called himself Whiplash. Or Red Skull if he were still alive. Not my friends. Not Wanda. She’s just a kid. Clint and Scott have children. And Sam…”  
“Well, if they ever make it out of those cells, they are welcome here too,” said T’Challa.

Steve glanced at the prince. He knew the other man wasn’t exactly offering to help jailbreak criminals out of an international detention center, but he was offering them refuge if anyone else did. That and since Wakanda had no extradition treaty with any other country, there would be little anyone could do about it officially.   
Unofficially, they might send Tony’s side of the Avengers to retrieve them, and another battle like the one at the airport could play out in a Wakandan village full of children. He suppressed a shudder, but also felt another surge of gratitude, for everything he had just thought must have surely run through T’Challa’s mind too. And he had still offered.

“It would take an amazing amount of luck and planning and expertise to get them out of that prison, and it would be wrong of me to agree to anyone besides myself being the one to do it,” said Steve.

“What would you need?” asked T’Challa. “In theory, of course.”

“Well,” said Steve slowly. “Transportation for one. It’s in the middle of the ocean in International waters.”

“Easily arrangeable,” said the prince. “Few know that my landlocked country actually does have a submarine fleet. Well, three anyway. And aircraft.”

“I’d also want backup, one of my comrades would be ideal, but of course they’re all locked up. Wanda would be great. Second choice would be Sam or Natasha.”

“Well Mr. Wilson is, as you say, detained, but as I said previously, Ms. Romanoff is not, so that we know. As I also asked earlier, do you have a means of contacting her, and would she help?”

Steve said “I believe she would, and I have several numbers she used, but I’m guessing those are numbers Tony knows and she wouldn’t be keen to use them.”

“And the other woman you mentioned? Sharon? Who is she,” asked T’Challa.

Steve shuffled uncomfortably. “She was the blonde CIA agent working with Everett Ross. She’s former SHIELD, she knew Natasha way back in training. She…she’s the niece of someone I once knew. She got our gear out of lockup and brought it to us after we escaped. She’s…well….on our side, but now she’s a fugitive for helping us.”

“Would she be willing to help break the others from prison?” asked T’Challa.

“Probably, actually,” said Steve. “But again, I have no idea how to contact her. I have a number for her, one she texted me from to tell me her aunt, my friend, had died last week. But if it’s a number people knew to use to contact her, she won’t be answering it to avoid being caught.”

“If both of these women are former SHIELD and one is CIA, and I believe Ms. Romanoff was also Russian intelligence, then they both have ways of being contacted that would not be easily traceable by their superiors. I learned a great deal about digital communications when I was away at school. And intelligence officers often make use of their own version of the Internet, something even deeper than the dark web that criminals use to communicate. Encrypted chat rooms, specialized code words to identify each other, digital breadcrumbs so that they could be found by friends but not so easily by enemies.”

“Sharon’s current job was monitoring online communications between terrorist groups,” said Steve. “She would probably know how to do all that.”

T’Challa stared at him for a long moment before saying, “You speak in a different tone when you speak of Sharon. A wistful tone. Is this woman something different to you?”

“She’s…I honestly don’t know,” said Steve. “I knew her for a while a couple of years ago. I was…interested then…and now too I suppose. But things are so crazy, and I don’t know where she is.”

T’Challa smiled knowingly. “You certainly speak of her as if she already is. Perhaps we should try and find her first?”

Steve pretended to be exasperated and looked at his newest friend. “Spoken like a man who perhaps has some experience?”

T’Challa smiled but looked away sadly. “Years ago, when I was undergoing my manhood ceremony, a rite of passage that requires me to go on a walkabout, I encountered a young orphaned girl, Ororo Munroe, like me on her own walkabout. She was…beautiful, strong. I loved her very much. But life took us forcefully in two different directions. She told me she was a princess from Kenya, but I later learned she had been taken to the United States. I hope she is well. In the meantime, there have been no shortage of partners from my father’s king’s guard. They are the daughters of tribal chiefs of Wakanda, sent to train from early childhood to protect the King and crown prince, and it is from their ranks that the queens and lesser wives of Wakandan kings are chosen. Most are quite happy to share my bed if I indicate an interest. But none so far have replaced the girl I knew as a teen boy trying to become a man. My stepmother once said a man always remembers his first, so ensure that she is worth remembering. My stepmother was quite correct.”

“I’m sorry,” said Steve with genuine sympathy. It was sobering to hear that even a prince and future king could find himself in romantic turmoil of this kind. 

T’Challa sighed, “It is how the fates have deemed it to be. Perhaps the same could be said of you?”

“It certainly could,” Steve agreed. “I thought Peggy was the girl I’d marry. She had a wonderful and amazing life. But I wasn’t part of it.”

“And now you desire her niece? A woman who measures up to your first love?”

“She does indeed,” said Steve. “How’s that for irony? If the fates are involved, they have a weird sense of humor.”

T’Challa laughed. “Have you considered, my friend, that perhaps the fates are not so unkind? Your time spent with the first woman was far from wasted. Perhaps her role was to teach you what you needed to know to properly love her niece years later, as the fates would decide for you? What role would this Sharon be in your eyes if you had never known her aunt?”

“Truly, I don’t know,” said Steve. “But as interesting as it is, I really don’t see the point in thinking too much on it. I just want to know if she’s OK.”  
“Losing sleep over her, are you?” asked T’Challa.

“I don’t…well yeah,” Steve admitted. “And when I do sleep, it’s no better. The dreams about her are…vivid.”

T’Challa gave him a wide grin. “Well, in that case, you are indeed a conflicted man. Half your friends want to kick your ass, the other half love you but are locked up, your lifelong friend is looking to freeze himself to avoid more trouble, your government shows its gratitude to your service by declaring you a criminal, your primary intelligence expert has vanished into who knows where, and the girl you desire as well is nowhere to be found and both are wanted by your government for treason. You’ll not have a decent night’s sleep until some of that is resolved.”

“You sum it up nicely, your highness,” Steve said somewhat sadly.

T’Challa clapped him on the shoulder. “Then let us not sit here and destroy the last of my punching bags over it. You will come speak to my intelligence experts. If anyone can find either of those women, they can. And then we will speak of releasing your friends and bringing them here.”

“You’ve been so generous to give us asylum,” said Steve.” I really don’t want to create an International incident because you helped us the way you are indicating.”

“Oh no worries about that,” said T’Challa. “I am not going to be giving you any help. You are going to steal our vehicles, and I am going to have no idea you intended to do so. And that will be the official position of the Kingdom of Wakanda. Let me handle the rest.”

Steve’s eyes widened, but he nodded. Then he looked at the punching bags. “Sorry about those. I’ll replace them or fix them.”

T’Challa waved him off, leading him towards the door. “I consider finding that girl Sharon to be in my best interests. If you are busy with her, likely you will stop taking out your frustrations on my exercise equipment.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sharon stretched out on the bath mat alongside the toilet and tried not to dry heave again. Her ribs were hurting at this point and nothing else was coming up. With a slight whimper, she rested on the floor while trying to convince herself that she wanted to risk another dizzy and nauseous spell by sitting up and trying to make it back into the bed. She hadn't showered in two days and hadn't been downstairs for food since yesterday morning. She had barely enough strength to make it to the bathroom to puke or try and keep down some water. It had been a long time since she had been this sick, and being alone for several weeks only added to the emotional down she was experiencing as a result. Of course she was a grown woman, a federal intelligence agent for two different agencies, trained practically from birth to be self-sufficient and resourceful, and perfectly capable of taking care of herself under any and all circumstances, so she didn't *need* her mother or anyone else fussing over her while she was sick. But when one is hiding out in the middle of nowhere all alone for nearly a month, a fugitive for aiding another fugitive from the U.S. Government, now sick with what was undoubtedly food poisoning, and no one to even call and ask how she was doing, or check to see if she was still alive, to say nothing of being cut off from her mother and family for who knows how long, it could be downright depressing. She fought back a wave of self-pity that could threaten to send her into sobbing fits. That really wasn't acceptable, nor would it change anything. Prior to Peggy's death she had gone two whole years without crying about anything more heavy than an ASPCA commercial. It just wasn't in her nature to get all emotional over crap that was mostly out of her control. Now, in the last 3 weeks, she had cried for her aunt, cried for being separated from her family, cried for losing her job and ending up in a forgotten SHIELD cabin, cried for not hearing from anybody, cried over Steve Rogers, and now she was crying because she was sick and alone. She figured she was probably making up for lost time really, but she needed to stop whimpering like a Hollywood starlet in a melodramatic black and white film, pull herself together and start thinking about leaving this depressing and lonely place and finding somewhere more friendly, healthier and safer to be. And hopefully with people in it.

And you will never, ever ever voluntarily consume a 5 year old can of Spam again, Carter. Doesn't matter that it's only just under the expiration date. What were you thinking you dumbass? 5 year old Spam? Are you trying to commit suicide? You have bullets in your guns, use those instead of you want to die, which you don't. If you're that hard up for some protein, take your gun out back and shoot a fucking squirrel. But no more Spam. Ever.

If she were fair to herself, she could admit that initially the cabin had not been in a bad place to retreat to. Even though it was missing a few crucial things that had normally been stockpiled in a SHIELD safehouse, it was still comfortable and relatively safe. It wasn't until those provisions started running low and her health suddenly deteriorated that suddenly the enormity of being so isolated so far from civilization began to become a problem. In the first two weeks, it had actually not been that bad, almost a vacation of sorts. She had been overworked for quite some time and there were worse things a person can do than hang out at a cabin in the woods free of deadlines and ringing phones as a means of recharging the internal batteries. She had even broken her the habit of looking constantly at the clock and had just returned to something of a natural rhythm, getting up with the sunrise and going to bed shortly after sunset. She had certainly caught up on her sleep. She had even been somewhat productive by throwing herself into cleaning up the cabin, which was not very large all things considered. After two weeks, she had cleared the place of most of the dust and had rearranged the supplies, mostly to get stock of what she had and what she didn't. There was a TV with a satellite connection if she needed background noise, as well as an old stereo with some albums that she could put on while cleaning. The only problem with that was that the selection was quite limited, for apparently whoever had initially stocked the cabin with entertainment had had a thing for trashy romance novels and Air Supply albums. She had never been a big fan of Air Supply, although her mother liked them, but she had put on one album anyway for background noise while cleaning, but had ended up having to swiftly turn it off after only two songs which unfortunately had been "All out of love," and "Lonely is the night," which were hardly uplifting songs if one was trying to forget that one was completely alone in the middle of nowhere secretly pining for a man she shouldn't even be thinking about. She had angrily turned the music off and put on the home and garden network on the television just to have something to break the silence that didn't remind her of how alone she was. By the beginning of the third week, though, she had gone through all of the activities that a reasonable person could expect to find in the cabin, which had included a few of the trashy romance novels, which did nothing for her state of mind, especially when reading them caused her to picture herself and Steve Rogers in the scenarios she was reading about in the books. She tried not to be too hard on herself about that, for surely she was not the first woman in the world to ever get off on a mental image of Captain America. She was only human after all. But by the end of the third week, when she had come down quite sick from that damn can of Spam, her little self-imposed vacation at the cabin was starting to really lose it's luster. She had not expected to stay quite this long, but she had avoided thinking about where she should go. She probably should have left a week ago but had avoided it due in part to the fact that she didn't want to admit that she had no real plan for her immediate future. This was an unsettling first for her really. She had always had a plan. Like her aunt, she often had plans with in plans. What influence Peggy had brought upon her upbringing, one thing for certain, Peggy had not raised a fool. And yet here she was, effectively stranded in the middle of nowhere, with a very real possibility of suffering severe health consequences, without any real plan of getting her something out of it or where to go after.

Admittedly, she needed to start thinking of leaving for no reason other than provisions were running low. That 5 year old can of Spam was part of the eat-it-as-last-resort stash, and she had reached that point. The cabin had been stocked with non-perishables and canned goods, but they were already several years old. And the only coffee around was 3 year old instant coffee, barely drinkable. She had found some flour and baking soda and had managed to bake a few loaves of bread that were more like a huge biscuit, but had been edible, and had found some blackberries outside, but that had been a week ago since that those had run out. The cabin had been visited since the fall of SHIELD, and as such was missing some of the usual items she had hoped to find. Like the two vehicles that should have been in the garage but weren't. She had been hoping for at least one, but without one, she was fairly well stranded. She didn't much like that scenario, especially now that she was getting over being seriously sick without any help. She knew she was dehydrated and undernourished, and that could be dangerous. She had also run out of Pepto Bismal in the first aid kit. As weak as she was, hiking out would be extra difficult if not impossible. She could probably make it to the kindly older couple's house, but that would be a rough walk and might put them in danger. On the other hand, if this illness had been any worse, or if she relapsed, she could die here and no one would know, maybe for years.

She shuddered at the thought. Get the hell up off the floor, Carter she admonished herself. If you're going to die, it's not going to be on the bathroom floor of an old forgotten cabin. At least go die in the bed like a civilized person. Stop lying on the floor whimpering like a damsel in distress.

Groaning, she hauled herself up off the floor, pulled up on the sink and filled the empty cup on the counter with water. She gulped it down, hoping to keep it down long enough to combat some of her dehydration, then stumbled to the bed, collapsing and trying to catch her breath. This was by far the sickest she could ever remember being. Not even the massive hangover she had incurred the day she, Natasha and Bobbi had graduated from SHIELD Academy could top the rolling stomach, headache and dizziness she had endured the last 3 days. She should probably be in a doctor's office getting rehydrated and pumped full of some sort of antimicrobial while sipping some industrial strength smoothie. If she didn't start bouncing back soon, she was going to have to face the choice of dying here alone or turning herself in to save her own life. It would not be at all fitting that her cause of death would include words commonly found on an epitaph in the Oregon Trail computer game. She opened her eyes and gazed at the assembly of electronics on the nightstand next to the bed.

They included three burner phones, a small netbook laptop that had undergone some serious upgrades in processor power and memory, but was handy because it was so small, a satellite phone with a scramble satellite Wi-Fi internet connection, and a couple of throwaway microcomputers about the size of a large flash drive that would allow her to plug into any computer anywhere and create her own network of sorts. Her Aunt Peggy had once told her to never rely on anyone else's tech or plans for her own personal contingency. Have your own way out and your own ways of communicating. Have your own resources and trust no one, not even SHIELD, and certainly not the CIA, to ensure you have what you need to do your job and make it out alive. She had funneled a certain amount of her share of Carter family resources to accounts she could use anonymously, including some untraceable Bitcoin, so she wouldn't hurt for money. There might even be some safe houses known only by Peggy she could use if she could figure out where they might be. Over the years, she had placed similar devices to the microcomputers on her nightstand all around the world on assignments, in Internet cafes, universities, libraries, even in some businesses, creating her own secure communications network should she ever need it. Well now she needed it. She couldn't stay here much longer and if she wasn't better by tomorrow, she was going to need help. And she had to make sure that help came in the form of those who might consider not turning her in immediately. That meant half of the Avengers, including Natasha, were probably out, though word was Natasha had turned on team Iron Man and let Steve and Bucky escape. That might mean Natasha would be willing to help, but that also assumed she'd be monitoring their old channels of communication. She had been trying to contact Bobbi for several months now on those channels, with no response, leaving her to believe that her old classmate was either dead or deep undercover. Either way, she couldn't help either.

With a sigh of resignation she reached over and grabbed one of the small devices sitting next to a burner phone. It was a small touchscreen computing box made from a Raspberry Pi that she had initially made just for fun during her CIA training in electronics and digital subterfuge as part of her eventual assignment to counterterrorism, where part of her job duties included creating false identities on the deep web to communicate in terrorist chat rooms. Her efficiency at sounding like a teenage radical Somalian wannabe jihadist had assisted some officials in derailing a terrorist bombing in Greece not long ago and she had used small devices such as these to avoid being traced. On the job, she had used CIA resources at her desk to do such things, having had experience from her SHIELD training in espionage as to how to navigate areas of the Internet that could not be found on any Google search. In fact, when she had been at SHIELD Academy, she and some of her classmates that included Bobbi and Natasha had spent a great deal of fun times setting up hidden chat rooms and message boards that even their superiors couldn't find using easily using microcomputers with scrambled IP addresses. The device she now held in her hand had been a simple enough project that she had created as a demonstration intending to train new agents in how to create throwaway computer devices similar to burner phones for use in counterterrorism. A high schooler could have made it, really. She had kept this one because she had made some personal upgrades to the circuit board that gave it quite a bit of computing power, as well as the fact that she had set up several anonymous accounts and closed tunneling services with it, some of which made use of the private network she had set up, as a means of accessing some of those old chat rooms from her days at SHIELD Academy, just to see if they were still there. It was a very handy portable hacking device. It was now more valuable than ever as a very easily hidden computer that could not be traced back to anything identifying her as Sharon Carter, but which might allow her to communicate with someone who could help her, so long as nothing on this device, aside from her fingerprints, identified who the user was. When using this tiny computer, she was always very careful not to mention any aspect of her real life as Sharon, but instead adopted one of her throwaway identities as the user hoping no one could trace it. If she could activate her satellite phone's Internet option way out here, she could use this device to try and communicate with former SHIELD classmates, maybe even Steve Rogers or someone who could contact him for her. 

She had to admit to having mixed feelings about asking Steve for help. Certainly he would do it if he could, she knew he would. But then what? Should she stay with him permanently? Would he let her stay or leave her behind again? She had been both relieved and disappointed when he hadn't asked her to come with him when they met at the airport to get his gear. Had he asked, she would have gone without hesitation. Standing beside Steve Rogers and fighting alongside him in any scenario would be almost as good as having SHIELD back again, and she had longed to join him for years at this point, even when they both worked on assignment from SHIELD and ended up in different areas of the world. She had occasionally pictured herself leaving the CIA to go join up with and work with the Avengers, maybe not as a team member, but she could certainly do support duties. She had skills they could use. She had been disappointed when he hadn't asked her to come with them. On the other hand, if he had, she'd probably be in a cell on the Raft next to Barton by now. And it would have meant fighting Natasha, who had been her friend. The group on the Raft had willingly stayed behind and allowed themselves to be captured so Steve could get Bucky away from Tony's team and go hunt down Zemo at the Winter Soldier facility. That would have been her fate too if she had gone to the battle. By sending her on her way, he had kept her out of the fight, uninjured, and free to fight another day. But now they were both fugitives, and she had no realistic immediate plans for her own future. She had not wanted to seem like she was following after him, and certainly didn't want to seem needy by asking to follow him, but the situation being what it was now, meeting up with him made the most sense at this point. She had to be somewhere and it nights as well be with him. She just had to remember to keep her emotions and hormones in check. Now she just had to find him.

She powered up the device and began tapping on the screen.

 

*****

“So these are the numbers you used to contact them?” the tech asked Steve in heavily accented English.

“Those are all of the numbers I had he replied. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful. Always before this month I had no problem using official channels to contact people I needed to get a hold of. It never occurred to me that those official channels could go dark. I'm sorry, it's just not the way I was trained to operate.”

“Well to be honest, Captain,” said the slightly balding and graying man who came up alongside of him and the tech, “it really wouldn't have mattered. Romanoff was trained by the KGB, Carter by her aunt, then SHIELD, then the CIA. Both of those women would have been taught early on the advantage of using burner phones and throw away numbers. Even if they were still active, it is unlikely that they would be answering the numbers as you have said before. However, if those numbers are still registered to an active device, then anytime they communicate with a cell tower, their location could be identified, as long as the phone was on, whether or not they made a call.”

“But both of them would know this wouldn’t they?” protested Steve.

“Yes they would, which is why I am not expecting our trace of any of these numbers to come up with anything.”

Steve look at the older man carefully. M'Bata was an interesting individual and probably not someone you would ever want to cross. He had been sent as a young man by T'Challa’s father T’Chaka to take up residency in the UK with the goal of joining British intelligence and learning the ins and outs of a modern intelligence network, although with a little spying thrown in for good measure. Others like him had been sent to the United States and other advanced countries with the role of learning about intelligence operations, only to return to Wakanda and begin to build an intelligence network in their home country, while maintaining contacts from the countries in which they have been trained. M'Bata had proven himself over the years to be quite competent in the art of espionage and intelligence, thus enabling him the right to rise through the ranks quickly and become the head of T'Challa’s intelligence department. Steve could not quite put a finger on the man, for he was never able to completely tell whether the older spy supported his current rulers’ idea of rejoining the world and becoming more of a force on the continent of Africa, but he seemed willing enough to help. Steve just hoped that his help wouldn't extend to informing any of his old contacts in the UK where wanted international fugitives such as Natasha and Sharron might be once he found them.

“Those numbers could be ghost numbers,” offered the tech.

“What's a ghost number?” asked Steve.

“Most of the time when a cellular phone is activated,” the tech explained, “a number is assigned to the device through a SIM card. However, in some more advanced phones used by espionage units, the phone itself doesn't have a set number, but instead rotates a set of various numbers that could be used either on the phone or on the Internet. If these are ghost numbers, then your friends would not necessarily have to turn on the phone in order to use them, but instead could log into an Internet café anywhere in the world and make use of it to retrieve messages. I suggest that we send messages to all of these numbers in the event that they are being shipped from different devices that we are not looking for.”

Steve nodded and the tech set to typing some messages to the two women and hopes that they would get a hit off one of the numbers.

“It is also important to attempt to think as they would,” said M'Bata. “In the old days of espionage, we did not rely on digital technology, which could be so easily traced. In fact, there is something to be said for the old ways, where in encrypted piece of paper was hidden in a storm pipe that was only meant for the eyes of the person it was intended for. Now, we have cameras everywhere and ears everywhere, and the easier methods of digital communication become more hard when you were trying to remain anonymous.”

“Are you saying either one of them would attempt to try and contact someone threw some old-fashioned method instead of by the Internet?” asked Steve.

“I would,” said M'Bata. “And to be honest, I would be more likely to expect this of Ms. Romanoff than of Miss Carter. The KGB was more inclined to teach some of the old method to its newer agents, given the fact that the unstable economy of the country meant that one never knew what resources would be available at any given time, but usually a man can find a piece of paper and pencil. Couple that with the idea that most of these young kids being trained today also have learned to communicate digitally in ways their superiors don't think to do, and I would be inclined to believe that both of these women, especially if they were friends, already have some means of communicating with each other, both old-school and electronically, that would not be known by their superiors in respective agencies. We just need to find out the method.”

“What old-school ways would you go about contacting an old friend from your training days?” asked Steve.

“Well,” said M'Bata, “the first thing we must remember is that most intelligence officers have extensive personal files on record at their respective agencies, for neither the CIA nor the KGB care to find themselves blindsided by their own agent who might defect as Ms. Romanoff did. These personnel files that are often kept on their own agents can include every bit of detail from birth to present day, including whether or not someone stole a candy bar when he was five. This is useful for the agencies because it means is the agent goes rogue, then the agency itself might be able to deduce that means that the individual might use to contact someone which is often something personal between the agent and the target. An agent might use something from his background to contact someone and their agencies want to know such things in order to know what to look for.”

“I'm not sure I understand,” said Steve looking slightly confused.

“If I wanted to contact an old friend from college in the UK,” the older man said, “but I didn't want my agency to know about it, I might consider leaving a message for him in a place that we frequently hung out, such as a tavern or a pub. If my friend and I were inclined to meet there every Friday night to pick up women and play darts, I might leave a message for him behind the dartboard, for example. If I had to wager a guess, I would say one of the women would leave a breadcrumb such as this for you, if they wanted you to find them.”

“Well I'm not sure this method is going to do us any good,” Steve said. “Pretty much everything of that nature between me and Natasha would likely be known by Tony, and I haven't really known Sharon well enough to develop that kind of rapport.”

“Did you not live in the same building with Sharon for over a year?” asked M'Bata. “Perhaps she could leave a message for you and one of your old apartments or with a neighbor.”

Steve shook his head. “She might, but I doubt it honestly. Other people have long since moved into those apartments and she would not want to endanger our civilian neighbors in that way. Both SHIELD and the CIA knew about her mission living next-door to me, and I suspect that would have been one of the first places they would have watched for either of us.”

“You knew her aunt though,” M'Bata pressed. “Would she have left a message with the family?”

“I can't believe she would do that,” said Steve. “She wouldn't want to endanger her mother or cousins in that way by leaving a message with them.”

“She might have left a message on the property and not told them,” said the technician.

Steve shrugged. “It's certainly possible, but again, if either of us were to show up on the property, it would bring the CIA raining down on everyone, and she wouldn't want to put the rest of the Carters in the line of fire that way.”

M'Bata still look determined. “Nevertheless, these are the best leads we have. Maybe the authorities are searching for you Captain, but I doubt they are searching for my people. It would not be so hard for me to send one of my agents to both the apartment building and the Carter property to search for clues.”

“You could, but I don't want anyone to get in trouble,” Steve objected. “The Carter properly is pretty heavily defended.”

“I'll begin the arrangements for such a mission, but we will keep it on the counter, so to speak,” said the older man. “What about Natasha Romanoff? What common ground might you have with her that the other Avengers would not know about?”

“We have never had a relationship, if that's what you are insinuating,” said Steve.

“Nothing like that,” said M'Bata “but even between friends, there are certain things that others would not know about on record. Conversations had at a specific location or something remembered by both that would not have been noted in a document.”

“Well, ironically, this is not the first time I have been on the run from authority,” joked Steve. “Last time Natasha was with me. It was when SHIELD fell at the hands of Hydra, and we found ourselves fugitives.”

M'Bata looked up at him sharply with interest. “Tell me about it,” he insisted.

So Steve told him about being on the run from a corrupted SHIELD, and how the Winter Soldier had been coming after them, apparently assassinating Director Fury and leading up to the launch of the three Hydra controlled helicarriers, which they had ultimately stopped.

“But in the meantime you had to stay undercover?” M'Bata pressed.

Steve nodded and continued the story, telling him of how he and Natasha had gone on the run, hiding out as civilians and attempting to access the Internet to gain an information edge over their Hydra pursuers. He told the older spy about them sneaking into an Apple Store pretending to be looking up areas to go on a honeymoon and joking about anyone going on honeymoon to New Jersey. But M'Bata did not laugh.

“A computer store, you say?” he asked. “Tell me where the store was.”

“I doubt Natasha would leave any kind of bread crumb for me in a public store,” he said. “Somebody else might find it.”

“Not if she embedded it so deep into one of the computers that nobody is even looking for it,” said the tech. Steve gave the man the information about which store it had been, and was astounded when the technician, within a few minutes, pulled up the store’s security feed, having easily hacked into the system showing the store in which Steve and Natasha had hidden to look up information on the computers.

“Which computer did you use?” asked the tech. Steve point it on the screen to the one that they had hovered over.

“Accessing,” said the tech. Once again, within minutes, the man had hacked into the computer and pulled up the filesystem. M'Bata was at another terminal, working on the video feed accessing the video records for the store in the last few weeks since the Avengers had gone on the run.

“Captain, come have a look at this,” he said, waving Steve over. Steve came to look.

“Is this Ms. Romanoff?” M'Bata asked, pointing to the familiar slender figure of Black Widow moving to the computer in question a few days after having gone on the run from Tony Stark. They watched as she plugged something into the computer and pretended to use it for a few minutes before unplugging the device and leaving.

“It would appear she did leave something,” M'Bata said with a satisfied smile. “One can always rely on the old school training of the KGB.”

“And I think I found it,” said the tech, waving them both back over to his station. He pointed to a file folder on the screen. It was hidden deep in the computer’s filesystem. “Unless you even knew to look there, not even the geeks at the Apple store would have known to look for it. I downloaded it. Shall I open it?”

“Isolate it first,” said M'Bata. “No sense in taking a chance. But if Ms. Romanoff wants to be found by the captain here, then this is likely the way she intended to do it.”

Steve shifted from foot to foot in anticipation as the tech accessed the folder. He wasn't sure what he expected to find in the folder that Natasha had left for him, maybe a video or something, but instead there was only an encrypted text file with what looked like gibberish in it. But the tech’s eyes lit up in excitement.

“What are we looking at here?” asked Steve.

“Digital coordinates,” said the tech. “This is the online location of a hidden chat room with the logon credentials. There are hundreds of thousands of such hidden locations all over the Internet that wouldn't show up on a Google search. You have to actually know where to go directly in order to access it. From the looks of all of this, it appears to be an encrypted chat room on a private server. And someone needs to give you login credentials in order to access it anyway, which is what this all appears to be.”

“So Natasha left me a way to contact her through the Internet without being traced?” asked Steve.

“That's how it appears,” said M'Bata. “Shall we give it a try?”

Steve nodded and M'Bata nodded to the tech to access the chat room. After a couple of keystrokes, a chat window came up on the terminal monitor and all three men leaned in as the tech sent an initial message.

Hello anyone here?

They stood watching for several minutes before the tech leaned back in his chair, sighed and looked at the other two. “I assume this portal set up to alert anyone not currently in the chat room that a message is waiting for him or her, but it does not appear that anyone is here now. Until the recipient accesses her own device, we could be waiting here a while.”

However, no sooner had he said that, then there was a ding as a new user came online and sent a message.

Cap?

Steve leaned over the computer keyboard and typed: Yes Natasha?

The reply came: video chat?

Steve looked over at M'Bata.

The older man pointed to a room off to the side. “You can video conference in there,” he said. “It doesn't give away any location and is soundproof, so no one should be able to pick up background noise to try and figure out where you are based on language or time of day. And there are no windows. We scrambled our location so it shouldn't be too hard to keep it secret where you currently are, but try not to stay on too long.”

Steve nodded and headed into the room where another terminal was set up, and M'Bata came and activated the chat to video chat on that particular terminal. Steve sat down in the chair just as the familiar face of Natasha Romanoff came up on the screen. He smiled in relief at the sight of his friend, apparently safe and unhurt. He had no idea what her intentions were or whose side she was on, but he never wanted anyone hurt and he was glad to see her in one piece. But just as he was in a room where care had been taken to not give away anything about location or time of day, it appeared that she was also in a room of a similar nature, although hers looked more like a sitting room with comfortable chairs and a sofa behind her. She looked tired and careworn, but otherwise in good health, and appeared to be safe if nothing else.

“Natasha. I'm glad to see you,” he said truthfully. “Are you OK?”

She smiled and nodded. “Good to see you too, Captain. I'm fine for the moment, although the food here sucks.”

“I don't suppose you're going to tell me where that is,” he asked?

She shook her head. “Not unless you feel like telling me where you are on this connection? I'm fairly certain it's as secure as anyone can make it, but why risk it?”

“Understood,” he replied. “Just tell me you're safe?”

“As safe as I can be anywhere in the world,” she said somewhat cryptically. “From my last conversation with Tony, I take it General Ross has a few things to say to me about stopping T'Challa from stopping you, and since I figure the Avengers are walking on thin ice, even if we agreed to the Accords, it's probably best that I lay low until they either stop being pissed at me, or until circumstances change. Obviously, I'm not going to tell you where I am, but I can only assure you that I'm comfortable, safe and somewhat decent only fed for the foreseeable future. Like Clint, I always make sure I had some contingency plans in case I needed to retreat or disappear.”

“Well, that's good, at least,” he said truthfully. “Given the circumstances, the few of us that are imprisoned or in the hospital the better.”

She nodded sadly and then asked “So Clint and the others are still on the Raft?”

Steve said, “Yeah and probably not looking to be released anytime soon. I hate that they are there for standing beside me, but none of us intended any of this to happen. By any chance, have you checked on Laura or the kids?”

“Yeah, I swung by there briefly before heading to my current location,” she replied. “Laura is ticked off and upset, and of course sad, but she's happy that he's alive. I honestly don't know what she told the kids, but they know their dad isn't coming home anytime soon. It's not the first time he's been gone for a while undercover, so I guess that's what she told them. But other than that, they seem to be safe. Under surveillance by now of course, but safe.”

“Well that's something I guess,” said Steve. “I don't suppose you'd be willing to come join up with me? I always like it better when the scenario doesn't require me to fight you.”

“Only because you know you could probably lose, old man,” she said jokingly. “And a sweet as your offer is, I think for the time being I'm just going to lay low here for a while and see which way the wind blows. But if something happens, you can find me on this channel. Call me if you need me.”

“I understand and thanks,” he said.

Natasha looked thoughtful for a moment and then said “How is Barnes?”

“Under control,” said Steve. “We're considering attempting to pursue ways to try and remove his programming implanted by Hydra. He doesn't want to lose it again.”

She nodded.” I can volunteer to do some research and see if there's any way to do so. I have resources I can use.”

“Speaking of resources,” said Steve, coming around to the point that he wanted to address, now that he knew that Natasha was safe. “Do you have any idea how to contact Sharon Carter?”

Natasha looked at him thoughtfully and smiled her knowing smile. “Now you decide to give her a call?” she quipped. “I told you to do that two years ago. That might've been a better time to call her the now when you're in hiding.”

Steve shook his head. “I just want to make sure she's OK, that's all.”

“Why wouldn't she be OK?” asked Natasha. “She seemed to be doing pretty well with the CIA. Unless she's on the outs with them for some reason? Like maybe sneaking your gear out of the evidence locker and giving it to you at the airport? I've been trying to figure how in the world you got your gear back when I saw you there, and I figured there was probably only one really logical scenario, and that was Sharron.”

Steve didn't answer but only shrugged.

Natasha smiled. “Wow. And here I was thinking Sharon was the sensible one out of all of us. That's pretty interesting. She must really like your sorry ass.”

Steve smiled. “I'm hoping she likes more of me than that. But you're not wrong about who gave me my gear. I guess it's not a secret.”

“Oh trust me, my friend, she likes more of you than your ass. Not that we've discussed your ass or any part of you in depth. She was on assignment watching your back, and I wasn't cleared to ask her questions, though she volunteered an observation or two. But I can tell you this, Sharon doesn't trust lightly. It's not how she was raised and she's seen some crap on the job. But you she trusts. She trusts you. Understand that that's a pretty big deal for her. Whatever she feels after that for you, well, you'll have to just ask her.”

“You don't think it's weird?” asked Steve. “Knowing who she is?”

Natasha shrugged. “I've seen weirder. But if the alternative is to have both of you moping out of unrequited attraction and whatnot, and if you hooking up helps us all avoid having to watch, who cares if it's weird?”

“Do you know where she is?” asked Steve.

“No I don't,” said Natasha.

Steve’s shoulders slumped.

“But I know Sharon. Or I did, years back. I could try and guess how she thinks. The three of us, her, me and Bobbi, we were close because we were a lot alike. Our backgrounds were different, but our skills were the same. If she needed to disappear, she wouldn't go where the CIA would look for her.”

“Where would she go?”

“CIA is effective, but not like SHIELD,” Natasha said. “CIA is hampered by politics, technology and all sorts of things SHIELD wasn't always subject to. The result was that their spooks weren't the kind of intelligence experts SHIELD had. If there's seven layers to a situation, the CIA might uncover four. SHIELD would get all seven. Sharon knows this. She would have a plan within a plan. She knows there's cameras everywhere. She knows she'd be tracked. She knows psychology experts will be analyzing how she thinks, trying to predict where she'd go.”

“So you think she'd go off grid?” Steve asked.

“I did,” said Natasha. “With just enough technology to have a video chat. And she wouldn't use CIA resources.”

“She'd use SHIELD resources then,” said Steve.

“Or her own. But I wouldn't be looking near anything resembling civilization.”

“There's a lot of wilderness all over the planet,” said Steve. “Any idea where I should start?”

“Well,” said Natasha, “given that her family is in America, she'd probably want to at least be on or near that continent, although the preferable option would be Tibet or something. Not that she'd blend in there. She always joked about wanting to hike the Appalachian Trail. But if she wants you to find her, she'd use a SHIELD resource or safe house that you might think to look. So that means never mind got now about the ones she knows, consider what resources you know about.”

“My first instinct is to say I don't know of any, but I'll probably have to think about it,” he said.

Natasha was thoughtful for a moment and then she reached off screen to grab a piece of paper and pen, and began writing. She held up the paper with various codes to hidden message boards on the darknet, as well as IRC access information.

“These are the resources I would have used before now to contact Sharon or Bobbi, assuming these channels are still active. We used them a couple of times when we were still at the Academy, and later when we were new agents, before our careers took us in different directions and we started utilizing other resources. I can start leaving messages and see if anyone responds. You can do the same if you have the resources. If Sharon is monitoring these channels, then she might find some way of letting you know where she is.”

“If you were in her position, what would you do?” he asked.

“Well I sort of am, and doing what I had planned to do,” she said with a smile. “But in lieu of the plan that I am currently following, if I were her, I would try to find somewhere to be long term that is under the radar and wouldn't put me in the path of the authorities. That might mean trying to hook back up with some pockets of SHIELD still in operation, although I think they are trying to go legit again, that could mean turning over fugitives from the government in order to get back in their good graces. She would have to take that into consideration. If she intends to hook back up with SHIELD, she will probably try to contact Bobbi. And that's assuming that Bobbi is working with any of the SHIELD cells. If she's freelancing, then Sharon might try to join up with her for that reason as well. Or she might just go completely dark and set up in a suburb somewhere and pretend she was never an intelligence officer. But whatever she ends up doing, it's only been about a month since everything went down, and I doubt she's going to make a permanent decision in only three weeks. She's probably hanging out somewhere to see if anyone tries to contact her. If she doesn't hear from anybody in a few more weeks, she'll probably move on to whatever for long-term plan is.”

“You'll let me know if you hear from her?” he asked.

“Of course,” Natasha said.

“And if you get bored where you are and feel like coming to stay with us, you'll let me know?” he pressed.

“Sure,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for the invite. Likewise if you ever feel like Clint and the others have spent too much time sitting on the Raft without a lawyer and without a trial, you’ll let me know then, right?”

“You'll be the first person I call?” he said with a lopsided smile.

They said their goodbyes and promised to keep in touch, and Steve signed off. He walked back out to where M'Bata and the technician were already checking the various channels that Natasha had indicated to Steve that she and Sharon had use to communicate years ago.

“Find anything?” he asked.

“I think so,” said M'Bata. He pointed to some messages on the hidden message board, some as much as three years old, and one more recent according to the date stamp. One message block was dated the day SHIELD fell.

[CarlySimonFan: Holy shit, you girls ok? Anyone still there? You won’t believe what I just had to fight my way out of.  
SpydrGrrl: In one piece. With the boys now. Old man and me had a rough patch but we made it through.   
A13sharebear: Needed stitches. MFers turned the control room into a shooting gallery. Going dark. Stay in touch, Stay safe girls.]

“I’m guessing these three are friends Ms. Romanoff mentioned?” M’Bata asked.  
“SpyderGrrl likely means Black Widow, so that’s Natasha,” said Steve. “I’m guessing CarlySimonFan is their friend Bobbi, who I haven’t met. An odd choice, no idea what it means. And the third one….”

A13. Agent 13.

“That's her, that’s Sharon,” he said with excitement

“Are you sure?” the tech asked.

“Definitely,” he said, smiling a warm smile at the nickname “Sharebear.” He suspected that if he ever called her that he’d get a knee to the crotch.   
“Those three messages are years old. There’s only one more recent one,” said the tech, pointing to the screen.  
[A13sharebear: anybody up for coffee?]  
Steve felt a wave of relief, then oddly, a wave of arousal, which he stamped down. “That one’s meant for me. We went for coffee…”  
He leaned over and typed a response.

[Methuselah741918: only if I don't have to watch you shovel five spoons of sugar in it. Know of any good places to meet one afternoon?]

M'Bata laughed. “I assume that exchange means something to Sharon Carter that no one else would get?”

“Not unless someone besides me watched her drink sugared up coffee after her aunt’s funeral,” Steve said.

“Methuselah?” asked the tech. 

“Hawkeye called me that, the numbers are my birthdate”, Steve said sadly, thinking again of his friends at the Raft.

“You are older than Mr. M'Bata,” the tech joked. The three men chatted more for a few minutes, waiting for a response, but none came. Sharon's message had been waiting in the chat room already. She was probably not online to see his response. And he was on the other side of the world from where she was likely hiding, she could be asleep somewhere. It might be a while before she responded. After an hour, Steve had to reluctantly admit he probably wouldn't hear from Sharon again soon. The two Wakandan intelligence officers encouraged him to go on about his business, perhaps go see how his friend Bucky was faring with his preparations for cold sleep. They assured him they would notify him if there was a response. In the meantime, they would try and locate where in the world the message had been sent from.

Though grateful he had been able to see and talk to Natasha and verify that she was safe somewhere, worry about Sharon and hope that she would respond had him dragging his feet as he reluctantly left the intelligence control room.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve had been steeling himself for a very long wait for a response from whoever was using the messaging written on the hidden server that Natasha had given him. So he was quite surprised nonetheless when only a few hours later M'Bata came to find him in the science lab to let him know that the tech had been able to back trace the location of the message left by “A13sharebear.” He had been both relieved and reluctant to leave Bucky chatting with the science staff who were demonstrating how easily they had put together the cryo-pod, and how they expected to commence testing on living subjects in only a week or so, which meant that Bucky would soon be gone from him as well, sleeping until they could figure out how to deprogram him. Steve wished that it was not progressing so quickly, although logically, he understood the reason why it had to be done sooner rather than later. He felt like he should be talking his friend out of this, but was nonetheless relieved to be able to leave, and anxious to hear what the intelligence officers had discovered.

“The message was sent from a server of unknown origin,” said M'Bata. “It doesn't bear the signature of anything in the US government, or anything US-based at all. It's actually not an unusual thing, a lot of people have private servers. But this one seems fairly extensive. Worldwide in fact. If it's a private server, whoever created it had access to many locations with computers around the world. It's amateurish by our standards, but impressive nonetheless.”

“And you were able to trace where the message came from?” asked Steve.

“Not exactly,” admitted M'Bata. “Whoever sent the message is quite good. Either one of the women you're looking for who are intelligence officers could easily have sent it, although I feel I should caution you that it could also have been sent by anyone with extensive intelligence training, which might involve Hydra agents. Whoever sent the message scrambled its origin through several different proxies and VPNs. Anyone without our resources would've had a very difficult time, if not impossible, attempting to track it, and even then we can only get a general location.”

“Where?” asked Steve.

M'Bata had come up to a computer terminal and pointed to the screen and Steve looked down. It was a map of the Appalachians.

M'Bata zeroed in on a particular location on the map and brought up a green square that outlined an area roughly 100 miles radius.

“It came from somewhere in this area roughly, about 24 hours ago,” he said. “We were also able to determine that other signals have come from this area to the server when we pinged for any ghost signatures left by previous logon attempts. Again, they were all scrambled, but once we knew what we were looking for, we were able to backtrack.”

“Could anyone from a government agency or SHIELD, or even Tony Stark, find the same information?” Steve asked. “If one of them is in this area sending messages, I would rather be the one to find them first.”

M'Bata shrugged. “We have done nothing here that any other intelligence agency couldn't also do, although I would suspect that it would take them a little bit more time, except perhaps for Stark. But in a treasure hunt, one needs a beginning point and preferably a map to follow. If this ‘sharebear’ individual wants to remain hidden, she took a great risk posting that message even to a private Internet chat channel on a private server that only she, and perhaps a handful of other people, would know about. Even a hidden breadcrumb is still a breadcrumb, and if somebody knew about this message board and chat system, they could trace this message as easily as we could. At the moment, I am operating on the assumption that Ms. Romanoff has told no one else about this private chat room, and thus they are not even looking. Even we would not have known to look had we not had this starting point given to us by Ms. Romanoff.”

“Of course,” said the tech, “we also have to consider that the red-haired woman you spoke to is working with the intelligence authorities to bring you in. Yes, she got on their bad side by preventing His Highness from following you at the airport that day, but she could always explain it away as that she was afraid he would kill you and had wanted to bring you in alive. Setting bait for a trap that would bring you to a particular location and out of hiding would be a fine way to get back in their good graces.”

Steve's shoulders slumped. “Only three weeks ago I would have argued against that pretty strongly, but after everything that is happened, I have to admit you could probably right. But if it really is Sharon, then I do need to try and find her, or at least verify that it really is her. After what she did, I doubt that a plea-bargain would be good enough to get her back in the good graces of the CIA, even if it meant learning me in which I don't think she would do. Is there any way to verify where she is or maybe get an image of her from some security cameras? If either one of them are in the area, then surely they must have passed by some ATM cameras or something?”

“We are actually running that search as we speak,” said M'Bata. “But what we needed from you is to pick your brain, as you American say. Tell me, is there anything in this area that you can think of where a fugitive former SHIELD agent might find useful?”

Steve thought for a moment and then he remembered. “I don't know if it's still there or even if it's in the possession of SHIELD, but I do remember there was a SHIELD safe house in the area. I stayed there myself once.”

M'Bata looked at him with interest. “Could you find it on these satellite images?”

“I'll try,” said Steve, thinking back to the landmarks that he passed overhead in the SHIELD quinjet that had brought him there and had taken him back to Washington, D.C., where he would eventually end up living in an apartment next to Sharon.

He studied the images of the area for several minutes before recognizing a lake. “I think it is somewhere on this lake,” he pointed.

“No roads going into the area,” said the tech, looking over his shoulder.

“There wouldn't be,” said Steve. “The cabin was originally built by Bruce Banner, where he would retreat to try and...get a hold of himself, as he would put it. In the event that he couldn't, he wanted the location to be far enough away from civilization or any number of people to avoid casualties. There are roads in the area leading to private residences, but the nearest town is miles away, and one usually reaches the location on foot or by air.”

“There it is,” said the tech, zeroing in on the cabin hidden by the trees on the lake. They zoomed in and Steve nodded, recognizing the structure.

M'Bata tapped the technician on the shoulder. “See if there's any kind of signal coming from that structure, everything from radio to digital.”

“Do you think she went there?” Steve asked.

“In her place, it would be one of my potentials,’ said M'Bata. “But I wouldn't stay there long. If SHIELD 's just looking to get back in the good graces of the US government, then locating a rogue agent at one of their safe houses would be a good way to do it. Also, since Ms. Romanoff released all of SHIELD’s records to the public, then it is entirely likely that the CIA will eventually zero in on this location themselves. That message came from this general area about 24 hours ago, so the person who sent it is likely still in the area, but if that person is that this cabin, and has been there for nearly a month now, they would do well to move on. In fact, I'm not entirely certain why she wouldn't have already, if she is there. Almost a month is a long time for fugitive from an intelligence agency to remain in one location.” 

“Maybe she’s stuck?” thought Steve.

“Or maybe it's a trap,” said M'Bata.

“I found a signal,” said the technician. “There's a satellite signal that is coming on and off at random intervals, probably the Internet connection that is being used with a satellite phone. There is also a hardline going to what appears to be an old SHIELD server.”

“Bypass and access that one,” instructed M'Bata.

“What are you thinking?” asked Steve.

“I'm thinking that hard line to a SHIELD server is probably the security system, and if there are cameras in the building, we can access them.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably, trying not to think of who had probably been watching him when he had been there, for he had not even known about security cameras at the time. He remembered how he used to walk around in minimal clothing, and sincerely hope that no female technicians had seen him naked. Then again, if Sharon had been assigned to him and had needed to brush up on her intelligence of him, then perhaps she had viewed the video of him at the cabin and had seen.....no, don't think about that, he told himself.

“There,” said the technician after what seemed like an eternity tapping away at the keyboard. They looked at the video feed that had come up on the screen. The tech clicked through several camera views and Steve recognized the cabin.

“Yep, that's it,” he confirmed. “But it doesn't look like anyone's there,” he said with disappointment.

M'Bata frowned. He instructed the tech to keep clicking through the various camera views that showed the cabin completely and utterly empty. At first, Steve wondered if they were looking at the still images, until he saw a bird land on the windowsill and then fly away, letting him know that it wasn't a still video they were watching.

“Something’s not right,” M'Bata said softly. “Pull up the weather radar of the area again.”

The tech did so and the three men could see that there was some heavy cloud cover over the area, and indications of rain in various patches surrounding the cabin.

“You see that,” pointed M'Bata at the weather screen. “Now look at the video.”

Steve did. There was bright sunshine coming through the windows of the cabin in the video feed.

“The weather radar says it supposed to be raining,” he said, “but the video shows sunshine.”

“Very clever,” M'Bata smiled. “We're not looking at a live video feed, gentleman. We’re looking at what someone wants us to see. See if you can remotely reboot the server and disconnect the external ports from the system. That should disconnect anything plugged in that might be generating a false video image. Then bring up the system again and see if that gives us a true live feed.”

The tech did as instructed and the screen went dark for a few moments as the tech hacked the system to override any ongoing commands or external influences. Finally, the feed came back up. At first glance, it appeared to be the same except the video was darker and gloomier, and rain was clearly falling outside the windows. Some chairs appeared to have been moved around, and the pillows on the couch were different, but it was the middle of the day and there didn't appear to be anyone moving around. Steve felt his heart drop in disappointment as the tech cycled through the cameras in the living area, and then to the bedrooms.

Then, as the camera feed came up for the room Steve had stayed in, all three men froze. The room was clearly occupied with items on the nightstand, a backpack on a chair, and the bed still turned down with the limp form of a woman sprawled on it. Her arms were wrapped around a pillow clutched to her stomach and her hair was spread messily across the pillow she was laying on. She was only wearing thin shorts and a tank top, and her face was a frown of discomfort and unhappiness. Steve felt his heart lurch.

It was Sharon.

And she looked awful.

“That's Sharon!” he exclaimed.

“Are you sure?” asked M'Bata.

“Yes. Why is she lying down in the middle of the day?”

“She looks unwell,” said the tech. “Her color is not good and she appears to have lost weight recently.”

Steve had to agree. Although she was asleep, he could see the cast of her skin was gray and she was noticeably thinner. After multiple sweeps through the camera system, it was clear that she was alone. A sudden rush of urgency hit him.

He had to get to her. Now.

Steve turned to the two Wakandan intelligence officers and spoke with them at length. They agreed that she probably needed help, but we're still wary of a trap. They called Prince T'Challa to come down and Bucky came to join in. T'Challa offered the use of a Wakandan aircraft to head to the location to retrieve Sharon. At its top speed, it would take 4 hours. In the quinjet Steve and Bucky had pilfered from Tony at the airport, it would take 6 hours, but could be cloaked from radar.

“I appreciate your willingness to help us, your highness,” said Steve, “but if you were discovered to have lent us a Wakandan vessel to penetrate US airspace, allowing one fugitive from US law to retrieve another and leave the country, to say nothing of you going yourself, it might be considered an act of war. It's slower but safer if I go in the quinjet. Alone. The fewer people involved in this the better. If the jet is intercepted, the only one who would be caught is me. And maybe Sharon.”

“Captain, I do not agree that going alone is your best option,” said T’Challa. “You know I and my resources would get you in and out the fastest.”

“And what if you run into trouble?” asked Bucky.

“I know you guys are itching to go,” said Steve.” But it's important to me that neither of you are caught. Sharon is my responsibility. I owe it to her aunt....Peggy....to keep her safe. And I'll need someone free in case the powers that be leave our friends on the Raft too long. If I'm captured, I'll need someone willing to bust us out.”

Steve looked pointedly at Bucky, who nodded in understanding. T'challa shook his head at Steve’s decision to go alone, but said nothing more about it other than to motion some of his assistants over.

“See that the visitors' jet is fueled and ready for long flight. As soon as possible.”

“Samsana,” the assistant bowed before heading off.

“Good luck my friend,” said T'Challa, shaking Steve’s hand. “I'll be sure to come get your reckless arse after you're captured. But if you are not, I am curious to meet this Ms, Carter who has Captain America so enthralled.”

With a grin, the prince strode off to oversee preparations for the quinjet to be fueled and stocked as soon as possible.

“So am I,” said Bucky with a smile. “I've never officially met Peggy's niece. I mean, other than having her open up on me in hand to hand combat. She's good, by the way. Powerful legs. You should have seen her and Widow tag-teaming on me like they've been doing it for years. Don't be pissing her off unless you plan to use her legs to your advantage.”

“Come on man,” said Steve fighting down a blush. “It's a bit early for that.”

“Suit yourself,” Bucky said with a shrug as they turned to head to the quinjet. Steve knew the Wakandan crew was working as fast as they could, but he knew time was going to crawl by until he was allowed to go get Sharon. He couldn't wait to see her.

Six hours later, Steve was about ready to scream and crawl out of his own skin. The ground crew had found some damage that needed immediate repairing in order to fly halfway around the world and back. They had also installed some Wakandan technology that would keep the jet from being easily spotted by radar or satellite, though it wasn't foolproof. The jet also had a SHIELD variety cloaking device, thought it wouldn't be easily spotted from the ground either. But finally, the jet was almost ready to fly and Steve had readied himself to go. He was wearing his regular civilian clothes and jacket, and was going over some final instructions for Bucky should he be captured when the intelligence technician came running up to him.

“Captain,” he said breathlessly, “I wanted to let you know, I've been monitoring the video feed since we pulled it up. The woman, Ms. Carter, she is definitely sick. She has not been to the kitchen for food and barely gets up to get water. She appears very weak when she does move, and she's barely left the bed. It's the middle of the day there. Even with a minor illness, a young woman with her strength should be up and moving more, perhaps sitting up watching television. It's possible she might need a doctor.”

“I'm about ready to go,” said Steve, trying to hide the urgency. “Try and send some more messages to that chat room. Assume someone is monitoring it, but try and let her know I'm coming.”

The other man nodded and ran off.

“Best get going,” said Bucky, waving to the last of the ground crew who backed away from the quinjet and waved for everyone to clear.

“I'll be back as soon as I can,” said Steve, clapping Bucky on the shoulder before running up the gangplank. Bucky retreated to stand next to T'Challa as Steve settled himself in the pilot seat and ran through takeoff procedure. With a final wave to the Wakandans, he opened the throttle and the jet that had been specially designed by Tony Stark, and later stolen by Steve, roared into the sky, turning east to head across the continent of Africa, the Atlantic Ocean, and finally to North America where Steve hoped he could pick up Sharon and bring her back without incident. He was always in complete control during tactical situations and his focus was absolute, but he had to admit he was jittery about getting to Sharon quickly. She was in trouble and looked like she needed help. She might be in danger. Someone might get to her first. It was going to be a very long six hours. He floored the jet's throttle pedal.

****

Sharon would admit to herself that she was feeling a tad better only because she hadn't heaved anything in at least 24 hours. She had managed to get up and shower, drink more fluids and dragged herself down stairs to heat up the last can of soup, which stayed down with no signs of nausea, though she knew she needed way more calories. But no puking in sight. So thankfully, that portion of her illness seemed to have passed. On the other hand, those simple activities had left her dangerously weak and dizzy, and she had nearly passed out on the way back up the stairs. She had sat down halfway up to regain her strength, and had literally crawled back to bed. She resolved that as soon as she regained some strength, she was going to pack up everything in the upstairs room and bring it down so she could sleep on the couch and not have to go so far to the kitchen. She had slept for 12 hours after that, and woke up with a killer headache, and not much more energy than before. She desperately hoped that can of soup wasn't also bad.

She didn't want to admit it, but she was scared. She had never been this sick before and failed to bounce back. She couldn't easily take care of herself and her supplies were dangerously low. She needed to get out of here but she barely had strength to get to the door much less miles through the forest and down a road on foot.

Aunt Peggy, I could sure use your advice now. I'm sorry I'm botching this up. At this rate, I'll see you sooner than I planned.

She turned her head and watched the sun start to disappear outside. Night was falling fast. Another miserable night sick and her health not improving, probably restless or no sleep, followed by a day of finding herself weaker and closer to the end. She closed her eyes and sighed in resignation. She wasn't getting better. Nobody had answered her messages. The only people looking for her had been people she once worked with who now wanted her imprisoned. Steve wasn’t looking for her. Natasha wasn’t looking for her. Bobbi was probably dead, killed in the fall of SHIELD. She felt a heavy pressure around her heart. She was done. It was time to face reality. She couldn't stay a single day more. She would use her small computer to access the CIA server and give up her location. They would come arrest her, but at least she might get some antibiotics and a smoothie. And not die.

She reached over and plucked the small hacking computer from her nightstand and fired it up. As it booted up, she forced herself to get up and start gathering her belongings. Thankfully, it didn't take long. She believed in keeping her mess in one place if possible. She gathered her toothbrush from the bathroom, drank more water, and packed everything she could into her backpack. Then she went to start packing her electronics when the small microcomputer dinged. She had a waiting message. Her heart pounding, she picked it up with trembling hands and almost laughed in relief when she read the message from “Methuselah741918.”

“Steve,” she whispered.

It had to be him, she reasoned. She easily got the joke with the screen name he had used, although the more cautious part of her recognized that quite a few people might try to impersonate him in this way. She had posted the message about coffee to the private chat room that she and her friends had once used, hoping that one of them would check it and maybe tell Steve about it, which appears to be what happened. But it also wasn't lost on her that, although she had valued her friends a great deal, presently, it was quite possible that they were now all on different sides of the divide, and might be perfectly willing to turn her in under certain circumstances. On the other hand, the crack about her shoveling 5 tablespoons of sugar coffee is only something that Steve Rogers would have known from their sort-of date after her aunt’s funeral, unless someone had followed and watched them, which was also a distinct possibility. Sometimes it really sucked to be a spy. It meant your head was full of thoughts like these almost on a regular basis. Her gut feeling told her it was him though, and that she needed to get a message to him about the severity of her situation. She was definitely at the point where she needed an extraction from this place, but she wasn't entirely sure that he would be able to come and get her. Also, she didn't know who might be monitoring the chat room, even if it was as private as she could make it, and had to make it seem like it was just a normal conversation between friends. After thinking a moment, she tapped out a message.

[A13sharebear: good to hear from you old timer. Any chance you could give me a ride to Starbucks? The sooner the better. It's getting cumbersome in this dump. Rapidly.]

After posting the message, and overcome with exhaustion, she turned off the computer and set it aside allowing herself to collapse back onto the bed. She wasn't entirely sure how she was going to let anyone know where she was without being obvious, but as she had already figured to turn herself in by tomorrow to escape her rapidly declining health in this situation, so she figured she could wait a little bit longer to see if Steve found her first. The pessimist in her figured that even if someone were monitoring the room and found her, at least she probably wasn't going to die here. Despite her troubled thoughts, sleep overcame her very quickly and she knew no more.

***

Steve pressed the button on the jet console and activated the secure radio that indicated an incoming call.

“Rogers here,” he said.

“Captain,” came M'Bata's voice. “I just thought I would let you know that it appears that Ms. Carter has posted another message to the private chat channel. She indicates that she is in need of a ride and that her situation is declining. I'm forwarding the message to your console now.”

Steve looked down and saw Sharon's reply to his coffee message. She had answered in the same cryptic allegory, but he got her message pretty loud and clear. She had no means of leaving her current position and her situation was declining. He felt the swell of urgency rise up in his chest again.

“I'm two hours out,” he replied. “Making a lot better time than I thought. Any sign that anyone has spotted me yet?”

“Not that we can tell from where we're sitting,” M'Bata replied. “You don't seem to have tripped any alarms heading at top speed towards the United States coast, which, no offense captain, I would say indicates something of a lack in your country’s preparedness.”

“That or they're just not used to looking for Tony Stark’s tech heading in unauthorized. Tony's creations, including the Iron Man, suit give off a certain signal that the military has learned to disregard. He probably reported this jet missing, but he has other ones, and at the moment they're probably assuming that this is one of his. No telling how long that will last though.”

“And all the more reason not to dawdle once you get there,” said M'Bata. “Grab the girl and get out as soon as you can. Good luck captain.”

Steve signed off and went back to focusing on the flight and keeping an eye out on the radar for any sign of anyone coming to intercept him. His nerves were on high alert taking a speeding aircraft back into US airspace where he was a wanted fugitive. He must be out of his mind to be doing this, but he never thought twice about it. She had given up so much to help him, all while still reeling from Peggy's death. Risking capture to go and retrieve her from a cabin in the woods was nothing. Besides, he knew she would come for him if roles were reversed.

As he got closer, his anticipation level rose higher and higher, to the point to where his breathing actually sped up a little. He knew part of it was concern over being spotted and possibly engaging in another fight on his own and without his shield, but he knew most of it was at the idea of seeing Sharon again, hearing her voice, maybe hugging her. Or kissing her. He was immune to disease, so he wasn't worried about catching anything if she was sick, though she might not be up for much more than a hug. But the idea of bringing her back to Wakanda, having her with him, especially once Bucky went into cold sleep, gave him a glowing feeling. He wouldn't be alone. And neither would she. His heart actually hurt at the idea that she had been isolated and alone all this time. Did she know he was coming?

Finally, he could see the coast of the United States coming up on his indicator console. All of his senses went on high alert as he looked carefully for any sign of trouble as he roared over the coast of South Carolina and going upward to the Appalachians, where the map indicated that he should head towards the cabin where she was hiding. He was maintaining radio silence to keep from implicating the Wakandans, but he managed to fire off a text message indicating that he was now over US airspace. Bucky had planned to park himself at a terminal in the intelligence office with M'Bata to monitor his progress. Thankfully, once he reached the continental US, he really didn't have much further to go. With no sign of trouble in sight, he easily maneuvered the quinjet over the Appalachian Mountains and arrived at his destination just as the sun slipped below the horizon. A cover of darkness was going to be extra helpful, but he was going to have to be careful approaching the cabin. Even if it wasn't a trap, he figured Sharron probably would not appreciate being snuck up on. Given her training, if he wasn't careful, she might end up shooting him well before she even realized who it was.

He was relieved to see the clearing by the cabin was still clear enough to land the jet, and he hoped he wasn't making too much noise as he did so, even though the jet was in silent mode and was not supposed to be making much more noise than a loud roar of an 18 wheeler. Even so, this far out in the wilderness, there wasn't supposed to be any noise of this kind at all, and he didn't want to attract the wrong attention. He settled the jet in the field and brought down the systems that would preserve the engine but left the vehicle powered up. If they needed to make a quick getaway, he wasn't planning on going through a lengthy preflight checklist.

He slipped a pistol in one pocket and grabbed two icer guns. The small darts could drop a grown adult in a second and render them unconscious for three hours. He rathered using them instead of bullets, as he was in no hurry to kill anyone, especially accidentally. Especially Sharon accidentally. He stepped off the gangplank and hurried to the tree cover surrounding the field. He carefully scanned the area for signs of movement, but didn't see anything. He circled the cabin looking for anyone hiding in the surrounding woods, and was thankful not to see anyone or anything out of place. Carefully, he slid up to the cabin and up to the front door. He slid his thumb to the scanner and was actually surprised to see it blink green three times and disengage the lock and alarm system.

He entered the cabin carefully, looking around. All of the downstairs lights were off and the kitchen looked put away as if it hadn't been used in a while. He frowned. That was odd. But the cabin did have a lived in feel. Someone had been here very recently. The air had a disturbed feel about it. Someone was still there.

“Sharon?” he whispered, then a little louder “Sharon?”

No response.

He checked all of the rooms downstairs before heading upstairs, icer held at ready. He worked his way down the hall, making sure the other two rooms were clear before he rounded the corner to the room he had once used, the room the cameras indicated that she was using. The door was mostly closed but cracked open a bit. Gently he pushed it open, and it swung into the room, creaking on its hinges. He had just enough time to register the sleeping form of a slender woman on the bed before she sprang up, jolted by the noise, slipping a gun from under the pillow, bounding to her feet with an energy that surprised even her, and just like that, Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter found themselves pointing weapons at each other in the growing darkness, barely registering who the other was. Steve recovered first.

“Sharon! It's me! It's Steve!” He slowly lowed his icer.

She blinked several times, as if she was having a hard time focusing, and flicked her head to flip her tousled blonde hair out of her eyes. Slowly she lowered her own gun, her face registering first shock, then disbelief, then finally relief.

“Steve?” she whispered. “Is that you? No, I'm finally hallucinating.”

She shook her head as he pocketed his weapon and came across the floor to her.

“You're not dreaming. I came to find you. I got your message.” He reached out a hand to her.

Sharon was almost positive she was dreaming. She had been desperately hoping he or someone would find her, had passed out hoping for him, and woke up to a creaking door and suddenly there he was. She hadn't left any instructions on how to find her in her last message. She had been waiting for a response saying he could come get her first. How had he found her so fast? She had to be tripping. That was all there was to it. Then he held out his hand and she realized she didn't care anymore. She flung herself at him, knowing full well if he was a dream, she'd just fall flat on the floor.

She didn't.

She landed against his solid chest, and in an instant, his arms were around her and hers were around him, and she was burying her face in his neck fighting back sobs of relief. She absolutely was not going to cry like a baby in front of him. But she couldn't stop the relieved trembling shaking her body that he clearly felt. He lifted her easily off the floor and hugged her carefully, burying his own nose in her hair and inhaling her scent. His hand stroked her hair soothing her and she squeezed him tighter.

“You're here,” she said. “I can't believe it. How did you find me?”

He set her down and looked into her eyes, the first time he had been able to do so in weeks. She was pale and drawn, and when he had wrapped his arms around her, he could tell she had lost an alarming amount of weight. Her eyes, normally bright and sparkly with sharp intelligence, looked dull and exhausted. Her hair was a mess and limp, its usual luster gone. She was wearing thin cotton pants and a tank top which, unfortunately for him, ignited his hormones as they didn't do much to hide the curves of her body, and they looked easily removable. His heart clenched at the thought that she had been so sick and all alone, and he wanted to cradle her and hold her, if she would let him. He wanted more actually. But he mentally shook himself to clear his head long enough to answer her.

“Natasha told me about the chat room where I found your coffee message. Some experts traced the location where the message had come from. Then I remembered about this SHIELD safe house and I figured you were here.”

She frowned. “I scrambled that message pretty well. Who the hell are you working with who had the ability to unscramble and locate me so fast?”

“I'll tell you,” he promised. “But not here and not now. I don't know if this is a secure location, and if I found you, then others could. Tony could. In the meantime, you're welcome there as long as you need a place to lay low. Will you come with me?”

[anytime, anywhere, as many times as possible]

She shivered at his choice of words and then mentally berated herself for having her mind in the gutter. She must really be out of it.

“Of course I will,” she said. “Thanks for coming to get me. I'm...in bad shape. Just getting over being pretty damn sick.”

“Yeah I can tell,” he said with a smile. He hugged her again.

“I'm not usually this much of a mess,” she murmured into his chest.

"I know," he said smiling, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes again, his hands came up to hold either side of her head, brushing her hair out of her eyes. He stopped breathing for a second. How could she be so beautiful? He dipped his head down and caught her lips with his own. She stiffened in surprise, and then relaxed into him. Their arms twined around each other and Sharon deepened the kiss with a slight whimper. If she was hallucinating or dreaming, this was certainly better than how her waking days had been going. Steve likewise was pretty sure his own brain had simply stopped working. She was amazing. Despite her exhaustion, she was kissing him back enthusiastically. Her hands gripped him almost desperately. For his part, he was doing his best to exercise some self-control. At the full extent of his physical power, he had ripped a piece of wood in half and had curled a helicopter with 5,000 pounds of lift. He knew if he got too exuberant in hugging her, he could hurt her. But as she continued to enthusiastically kiss him, he found his self-control rapidly slipping. This one was certainly longer and more energetic than their first one at the airport.

Neither of them knew which one moved first or how they ended up there, but the next thing Sharon knew, the mattress of the bed was hitting the back of her knees. Her legs were already about to give out on her anyway, and so collapsing to the mattress and pulling him with her was almost a natural and fluid movement. Her quick collapse downward caught him by surprise and he tumbled off balance down with her, landing halfway on top of her. He tried to compensate by rolling off sideways, but all that accomplished was him pinning her hips down into the mattress with his own. The sensation caused his already tenuous self-control to start to unravel. He leaned down to kiss her again, this time with a little more insistence.

Sharon had briefly felt the air whoosh out of her lungs when they had both landed on the bed, caught off balance, but she recovered quickly. He re-adjusted and the next thing she knew, he had settled on top of her, his hips pressing hers down, his arms on either side of her shoulders propping him up so that most of his weight was off her torso. She tried to form the words to tell him she was sorry for catching him off guard, and that they should get up and get going. But when his lips found hers again, and she felt the unmistakable growing hardness of his arousal pressing into her thigh, everything rational shut down and she easily surrendered to the sensation of heat flooding her veins and core. She wanted him. Badly. Probably more than she had ever wanted any man. And she was tired of telling herself what she should not be doing with him and why. She allowed her mind to go blank and relaxed under him, giving a pretty clear indication that she was on board with anything that might follow.

Steve was rapidly losing the ability to think. He had not intended for anything like this to happen, although he was certainly not unhappy with the developments. It was amazing to him that a man who had never gotten farther than second base with any woman, including the one who could have been the love of his life decades ago, now found himself on top of one on a bed in a deserted cabin with no one likely to disturb them, and with what seemed to be a very bright green light for him to proceed on her part. Spikes of adrenaline shot down his spine and the anticipation was almost overwhelming. He wasn't entirely sure how he should proceed, he didn't have any firsthand experience yet, but his autonomous nervous system had put every inch of him at mission ready as soon as she had relaxed under him. Their kisses were becoming desperate and breathing accelerated. He broke the kiss and resting his head on her shoulder trying to catch his breath. Then he felt her tense slightly and she whispered faintly.

“Steve. We need to stop. I feel dizzy. I think I might blink out.”

It had taken every ounce of self-control Sharon had possessed to say the words, but when the tunnel vision had started, she realized that passing out on him because she was still sick probably wouldn't leave a positive impression on him for anything that might follow. Despite the fact that the liquid heat of desire was thundering thought her entire being, she needed a breather. A literal one.

Seeing her pale face and feeling her labored breathing not entirely from excitement sobered Steve up immediately. What the hell was he thinking? She had been so sick she hadn't been able to hike out of here, which was why he had to come get her in the first place. She was in no shape for any of this! She probably was borderline delirious and here he was about to take advantage of her in a compromised state. If she were still alive, his mother would kick his ass for this. Then there was also the issue concerning how much time they had before official forces, possibly in the form of an Iron Man led team, recognized the quinjet signature and showed up here looking for him. It would not do for Tony to come walking in fully armored up to find the two of them entwined, naked in bed. He was also not well equipped for a fight, nor was he in any mood to deal with Tony face to face yet. On top of all that, he suddenly remembered that M'Bata had overridden the video feed Sharon had put in place, and now they could see the true live feed back in the control room. They probably had quite the audience by now. Hell, they were probably handing out popcorn. He was not going to go any further with anyone, especially Sharon, knowing there was an audience.

“God, Sharon I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” He rolled off of her and stood up, mentally willing his erection to go down as fast as possible. He was thankful for the twilight. If he was lucky, maybe no one, not Sharon or anyone watching the video feed, would notice. He felt his cheeks burn.

She sat up, shaking a little and put a hand to her forehead.

“I shouldn't have...I don't know what came over me,” he stammered, fully aware that he probably sounded like a dork. “I'm just...I'm glad to see you. I was worried about you, but you're sick, and we're not, I mean...there's no excuse really....”

“No it's ok. It's ok Steve.” She reached up and grabbed his hand looking up at him. “Don't worry about it. I just lost my breath. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just...I'm happy to see you too. I just...I'm not thinking straight.”

Silence elapsed between them, though not nearly as awkward as either of them had expected it to be, and they stared at each other, still breathing faster than normal, before Steve finally shook himself enough to act.

“We should go. I'm not certain I wasn't tracked and we might not have much time. Is there anything you need to grab?”

Sharon nodded and pointed to the electronics.

“I'll go change,” she said, grabbing a pile of clothes and her shoes. As she went into the bathroom to change out of sleep clothes, Steve firmly buried the mental image of her stripping down on the other side of the door and set to work making up the bed and packing everything into her backpack. By the time she emerged wearing jeans and a light long-sleeved shirt, her boots and jacket, Steve had the room back to normal with military efficiency, making it look like nobody had been there at all. Sharon made another slow circuit of the room, making sure nothing was left behind, and then she followed Steve out and down the stairs on shaky legs. Steve made a quick sweep through the downstairs, verifying that everything was in place before turning to Sharon, resting a hand on her shoulder, and leading towards the door.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

She nodded, turned for one last look at the cabin that had been her sanctuary, and the turned to follow him out the door. Steve slung her backpack over his shoulder and grabbed her hand to walk back to the quinjet. As they crossed the field, Sharon felt the oddest sensation as she walked, as if her legs were slowly turning to rubber. She also felt like she was walking through knee deep thick mud, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to make her legs function. As she failed to lift one foot high enough to step and stumbled over her own feet, Steve quickly steadied her and asked if she was ok. She said that she was, and kept walking, hoping to make it to the jet quickly so she could collapse into a seat. But halfway there, she realized she wasn't going to make it.

“Steve...?” was all she managed to get out before the world spun quickly and the ground started rushing up to meet her.

Thankfully Steve’s reflexes were very quick. He had turned the sound of his name being said in a strangely high voice, just in time to see her collapse. He moved quickly to slide his arms under her knees and shoulders and lift her up. Her head lolled back briefly before she righted herself and grumbled something about being dizzy but not a baby. He chuckled, but truthfully, he was very concerned. Sharon was normally a young healthy woman. She must really be in bad shape if she couldn't even make it to the jet. It made him feel even more guilty that he might have made it worse with the make-out session earlier. He sprinted back to the jet and up the gangplank, using his elbow to hit the button to close the door. He settled her into a seat and strapped her in, leaning the back all the way back so that she could lie down somewhat.

She groaned and closed her eyes.

“Just hang on,” he said. “We have kind of a long flight, but I'll get you to a doctor soon as I can.”

“I just need to rest,” she whispered.

“Sure,” he replied, knowing better than to argue with a Carter woman. That had never gotten him anywhere quickly. He took off his own jacket and spread it over and handed her an airsickness bag just in case. Then he quickly situated himself in the pilot seat and fired up the engines, more than ready to get them out of there. He fired off a text message to M'Bata.

[I have her. We're clear for takeoff. Heading back now.]

M'Bata replied [you might want to hurry Captain. There is a troubling disturbance on the radar heading your direction. Three F16s by the looks of it. They might not be coming for you, it might just be a training exercise, but my gut tells me that's not the case. The sooner you were out of US airspace, the better.]

His heart pounding, Steve quickly gunned the engines and lifted the jet from the clearing, pointing it towards the Atlantic Ocean. Just as he opened up the engine to boost them out of US airspace, the fighter jets appeared on the horizon and on his radar. They were attempting to get a missile lock on him. He had to hurry. It would certainly not do to have rescued Sharon only to have them both shot out of the sky in the process. The quinjet quickly picked up speed, and the modifications Stark had made to the engine certainly helped. They were well out of range and over the Atlantic Ocean before the jets could even get on the same course. Right before they were able to get missile lock, he gunned the engines even more and zipped out of their range. He figured they would probably be under orders to pursue, but those jets were not long-range and they couldn't go very far. They were over Bermuda before the jets finally turned back and they were home free.

Once he was certain that the coast was clear, he engaged the autopilot and went over to the seat where Sharon was barely conscious. He dropped his knees beside her and brushed the hair out of her eyes.

“We're in the clear,” he said. “Straight shot from here, hopefully no more worries. It's about 5 hours in flight, but as soon as we land, we'll get you some help.”

“Where are we going?” she whispered.

“Wakanda,” he said with a grin.

“Wakanda? You mean T'challa…?”

“Yep. Don't worry about it now,” he said. “I'll explain everything. You just rest.”

For once, she didn't argue and allowed the unconsciousness to overcome her. Her eyes slid closed and after he verified that she was still breathing, he went back to his station and sent out a message indicating that she was going to need a doctor soon as they landed. It was Bucky who replied that doctors were already standing by. Once Steve was certain that it would not be hazardous to maintain a radio conversation, he opened a channel and smiled to see the face of his friend with T'Challa sitting next to him.

“Run into any problems?” the prince asked.

“Three fighter jets scrambled to follow,” said Steve, “but I outran them. They might be tracking by satellite though.”

“I am uploading some coordinates to you now,” said T'Challa. “It'll change your flight plan a bit, but it’ll take you the zigzag route back to Wakanda. You should be able to lose the satellite track in the jungles and mountains. It will add another 30 or 45 minutes of flight time though.”

Steve frowned. “I don't know about that,” he said. “She's deteriorating pretty quickly. I need to get her back there soon.”

“She didn't look too bad earlier,” said Bucky with a smile, confirming Steve's suspicion that they had had an audience.

“Yeah well,” Steve said trying to brush it off, “I think she used a crucial energy she didn't have to spend. It was stupid of me. I know better than that.”

“I understand you are concerned for your friend, Captain, but if we don't want you to track back to my country, then the alternative flight is probably the best option. Can she make it?” said T'Challa.

Steve looked over where Sharon was snoozing uncomfortably in the chair. His first instinct was to say no in order to get her back as soon as possible. But while she was not in the best shape, he doubted she was in immediate danger, although she could be by the time they hit Africa, who knows. But if he was honest with himself, he didn't think that another 45 minutes or an hour would make so much of a difference that she would be in danger, and furthermore he did not want to cause any trouble to T'Challa had already taken on a great deal of personal and political risk to give them asylum. As much as it pained him, he knew he had to agree.

He nodded in assent and accepted the upload of the new flight plan. If he thought the hours spent in the jet getting to the cabin were difficult to manage, then the flight back was even worse. He knew the jet was one of the fastest aircraft on the planet, but he couldn't help but feel they were going so slow that they could conceivably be passed up by a kite. He forced himself to stay in his seat after about two hours of compulsively checking on Sharon had started to cause his leg muscles to cramp up. She was still asleep but breathing so he forced himself to relax.

The autopilot kicked in over the coast of Africa, taking the quinjet up through Morocco and along the coast of Spain before dipping back over the Straights of Gibraltar and over the Sahara. The jet flew low to confuse radar and satellite, and dove under jungle cover once they reached the continent interior. Steve was just about to scream in frustration before the jet dipped along the misty mountains that bordered Wakanda and dove through one of the few gaps in the mountain range that let visitors enter the country. The pass was heavily guarded and Steve answered several verification requests before the shields were brought down to let him pass. He steered the quinjet to the hangar where it was normally kept and brought it to a landing.

He jumped out of his seat, figuring he'd let T'Challa's ground crew worry about powering down the jet, rushed over to Sharon and checked her. Still breathing. He finally let out a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he had been holding. They had made it.

He unsnapped her harness and slung her backpack over his back, then lifted her up out of the seat into his arms.

“Sharon, we’re here. Wake up.” He shook her gently and she groaned, and then opened her eyes.

“We’re here?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Let’s get you to the medical facilities.”

“Put me down,” she said. “I can walk for a minute. I don’t want to be carried off this jet like a baby.”

Steve wanted to argue. She was a real mess. But he knew she wanted to maintain some dignity, and besides, if he kept an arm around her, he could mostly carry her anyway. He helped her down the gangplank and across the tarmac to where Bucky, T’Challa and M’Bata were waiting. She leaned heavily on him as they came to a stop in front of the prince.

“Ms. Carter, welcome to Wakanda,” T’Challa said. “I’m sorry you’re not well, but I know many who are quite glad you are here. Please make yourself at home. We can speak later when you are rested.”

“Thank you, your highness,” Sharon said with a nod, trying her best to remain upright. She looked over at Bucky and nodded. “Sergeant Barnes.”

“Agent Carter,” Bucky nodded. “Sorry for slamming you into that table. I…wasn’t myself.”

Sharon shrugged. “Apology accepted.”

“The doctors are waiting downstairs,” said M’Bata. “You should go get taken care of. There will be plenty of time to talk later. Welcome to Wakanda, Agent Carter.”

With the greetings out of the way, the Wakandans slowly departed, and Steve helped Sharon into the building, where she finally gave out from exhaustion. He scooped her up again.

“Can I carry you now, Ms. Hardhead?” he joked.

Her only answer was a whimper.

“Let’s go,” said Bucky, leading the way, already quite familiar with the medical facilities in his own right. Sharon was pretty much unconscious, and thankfully the walk wasn’t a long one. They entered the medical bay, and the chief physician to the royal family, Anika D’Joro, was waiting for them.

“Bring her here, Captain,” the doctor waved them over, pointing to a medical table. Carefully, Steve laid Sharon down on the table and stepped back. The medical team descended on her, and Steve felt his worry jolt up a few notches when she barely moved with all of the foreign strangers surrounding her.

Dr. D’Joro came over. “We’ll take it from here, Captain. You can wait outside. I’ll come get you when we are finished assessing her.”

Steve was about to protest, when he felt Bucky’s one remaining hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, man,” Bucky said gently. “She’s in good hands, I promise. They got me fixed up, as much as they could. Let’s go wait out of the way.”

With a final glance at Sharon, Steve reluctantly nodded and followed Bucky out into the hallway. They sat on chairs wordlessly and waited. Steve went through some calming breathing exercises, trying to ignore his own fatigue that was finally settling in once the adrenaline of the mission to retrieve Sharon was finally over and they had made it back in one piece without incident.

“She’s cute,” Bucky said.

Steve glanced over at his friend who gave him a sad but hopeful smile. He thought about protesting, insisting there was nothing going on, at least not yet, between him and Sharon, but he thought better of it. Bucky would recognize the lie anyway. So instead he simply chuckled softly, almost in disbelief.

“Yeah, she is.”

“She seemed pretty happy to see you.”

“I imagine that was pretty obvious if you were watching,” said Steve.

“If nobody had been watching…and if she were feeling better…what would have happened?” Bucky asked.

Steve looked at his friend. “I guess you know the answer to that as well as I do.”

“You both ready for that? Just yesterday you said it was early for it.”

Steve sighed. “I don’t know, Buck. I don’t know anything about any of this. Everything’s so messed up.”

“Hey, no need to rush. Just let her get better and get to know her. She might decide you repulse her and problem solved.” Bucky grinned.

“Funny, man. You’re a regular riot,” Steve said, but leaned back with a smile. He was worried about Sharon, but already planning what they could do once she was better. He couldn’t wait to show her around. And maybe other things.

The time crept by but not nearly as it had on the jet, to and from the cabin. Finally Dr. D’Joro came out and spotted them. She walked right over as Steve and Bucky bounded to their feet.

“She’s going to be fine,” the doctor said, and Steve felt himself let out a breath and slump in relief. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Bucky asked.

“Severe food poisoning, mild septicemia, dehydration, severe malnutrition, stress and exhaustion,” said the doctor. “We’ve got her on IV fluids for the dehydration, and we’re pumping nutrients and antibiotics into her. She should be remarkably better by tomorrow, but I’m keeping her here overnight for observation. And I’m ordering bed and couch rest for the next three days. She should start on a liquid diet, she’s battled severe nausea recently, so slow is better. Then once she’s built up to solid foods again, she should be given some of the superfood fruits we grow here in Wakanda. I’ll send down a menu to the palace kitchen for her. We’ll see what she can tolerate. I’ll want to examine her again tomorrow and in a couple of days. And call me immediately if her condition worsens, or if she becomes incoherent or unresponsive, or worse, delirious. It’s a miracle she went on as long as she did without help. She’s tough.”

Steve snorted but nodded. “Thank you doctor.”

Dr. D’Joro nodded and patted his shoulder. “You can see her, but no crowds in the room. She needs rest.” Then she turned and left.

The two men carefully crept into the resting room. The lights had been turned down and Sharon was in the bed, dressed in a cotton top and pants, with an IV running to her arm and monitors glowing softly. She was wrapped in a blanket and appeared to be asleep. Bucky walked over and looked down at her.

“She really doesn’t look anything like Peggy,” he said softly. 

“I count that as a good thing. I like her as an individual, one who doesn’t remind me of anyone else. Her eyes are similar though.” Steve looked down at her affectionately.

Bucky smiled. “Well on that note, I’m going to get some shut-eye. You try and rest too. You’re no good to her in a coma. See you in the morning.”  
He clapped Steve’s shoulder on his way out. 

Steve watched him go, and then walked over to the sofa and stretched out, not caring in the least that it was probably going to give him a hell of a sore back in the morning. He wasn’t leaving her side any time soon. Almost immediately, he was asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Sharon slept through the night and most of the following morning. Steve didn't leave her side until Dr. D'Joro insisted that he go back to his own quarters to shower and rest. He did so reluctantly, stopping to make himself a breakfast smoothie in the visitor quarters kitchen, then showering and collapsing on his bed. He awoke four hours later, extremely hot and bothered in the throes of a good dream about Sharon. Really, this was getting ridiculous, he thought to himself. Was he suddenly now incapable of basic self-control where that woman was concerned? After making himself somewhat presentable, he quickly returned to the medical wing. When he softly crept into her room, he was relieved to find her awake, sipping a sweet potato and mango smoothie with various nutrients added to it and lying on top of the covers flipping through channels on satellite TV. Although she still looked somewhat pale and tired, her color was starting to return and she looked much better. She looked over and saw him standing in the doorway and smiled.

“Hey,” he said with an answering smile, going to sit in the chair next to her bed.

“Hey yourself. Not much on TV here.” She dropped the remote and set the smoothie down and then turned her full attention on him.

“You look like you're feeling better,” he said.

“I do feel better. Whatever they're pumping me full of, it's working pretty well,” she said pointing to the IV.

“Smoothie not making you nauseous?”

“Nope. It's really pretty good actually. So we're in Wakanda? It looks a little odd. I mean it's pretty neat and the technology is interesting, but I can't quite put my finger on it.”

“Yes we’re in Wakanda,” he said. “And I know what you mean about the architecture. It's a little difficult to describe and I have an artist eye. If I had to put it to words, I would say that the architecture around here is notably African. For example, a lot of the buildings and rooms are circular instead of square like you see in the Western Hemisphere. Once you get a chance to look around, and I'll show you once we get the chance, you'll see that a lot of the common people live in circular huts that are very similar to the ones their ancestors used to build out of mud out on the African plains. Only now they're built with sustainable long-term materials and have modern technology, like climate control and electricity and running water. But the technology is very organic, for lack of a better word. Their vehicles are somewhat reminiscent of animals you might find out on the savannah. Take a look at their aircraft when you get a chance. They look a lot like birds. Honestly, they have some very interesting tech overall.”

“I've been pretty impressed with their level of medical technology,” said Sharon. “I went from thinking I was going to die yesterday to feeling almost normal today, although I'm pretty tired.”

“Well I'm certainly glad you're feeling better so fast,” he said. “But you're right about the technology, it's pretty advanced. I thought Stark technology was advanced, but the more I am in contact with the Wakandans, I realize that Tony's tech is only advanced in a particular area: weapons and computers. It wasn't until I got both Bucky and you here, and they started working on you with their medical technology, that I realized how much of an important train Tony might have missed with the genius of his. I think this country is at a technological point with medicine and sustainable technology for everyday life that Tony might have been if he had dedicated his energies to that instead of weaponry or advancement in computers. A lot of their tech comes across as being very natural, like it comes from nature itself. And the more I learn about them, the more I think that these people are at the technological point of advancement that the entire continent of Africa might have been, starting from the beginning of human history up to the present, if they had not been played with wars and famine and disease.

“And European colonization,” she added.

“That certainly didn't help,” he agreed. “T’Challa told me some of their history. Originally Wakanda and the tribes that comprise the nation really weren’t too different from their neighbors. They were tribal and part of a warring society, which you can still see even today in some of the culture. Then, at some point, these tribes isolated themselves in this area and closed out the rest of the world, and started to develop their energies into technology. The vibranium certainly helped. But they followed a different path than say our country of America. American tech advanced because of industry. Wakandan tech advanced because of agriculture.”

“Sounds like you've been getting quite the history lesson,” she said with a smile.

“Well they have been good enough to take us in when pretty much every other country on the planet would immediately turn us over. Initially, I started studying them because I didn't want to commit a social error and insult someone's grandmother by accident. I wanted to be a good guest and not give T'challa any reason to be sorry for taking us in the way he did. Learning about their culture and technology was just an extension of that. And of course I have an interest in the vibranium. I always thought my shield was just something that could absorb the kinetic energy. Now the scientists here who have been studying the substance for decades tell me that it doesn't just absorb, it holds and releases. What the scientists of this country figured out a long time ago was a way to get the vibranium to release stored energy on a controlled basis and that's what powers the country. And keep in mind, the big deposit of it that they have here has been absorbing earthquakes ever since it landed here.

“It's a meteor for sure, then?” Sharon asked.

“They think so,” Steve said. “There's nothing else like it on earth, so it didn't form here naturally. And there’s folklore, stories about a star that fell from the sky and gave power to the nation. You find it in a lot of things around here. T'Challa’s suit is just one example, but even that suit has an insane amount of vibranium, even by Wakandan standards. That's why only the king wears the Black Panther suit. It's basically priceless.”

“What other kinds of things do they have that you've noticed?” she asked.

“Well, have you seen those bracelets that everyone wears?” Steve asked.

She nodded. “At first I thought they were just African jewelry beads, but I noticed they seem to talking to them like cell phones. And virtual screens seem to pop out of some of them.”

“They're called ‘kimoyo beads,’ and you're right, they’re patterned on similar beads worn by tribes around Africa, but of course you've noticed these are special. 

They’re powered by the energy that is all around Wakanda by tapping into the vibranium energy. These are one export you won't ever see outside of this country, though because they're basically useless outside of the range of a vibranium deposit. Although some of the royal family and entourage have some that also use alternative power sources to work outside of the country, so they can communicate with each other without needing cell phones that can be easily tapped. I don't think your friends at the CIA would be easily able to tap into the communications these beads use.”

“Now that is interesting,” she said sitting up. “But I noticed some people seem to have more beads than others.”

Steve said “T'Challa told me and Bucky that when a Wakandan child is born, he is given his first bead, usually worn on an ankle bracelet that carries his biometric data. Essentially his entire medical history is stored on it. The doctors here find that pretty handy. At another point, a child is given a communications bead that acts like a cell phone. Then, depending on what profession he chooses, he might end up with more beads this someone else. A farmer has some agricultural beads, doctors have medical scanners, nearly everyone has a weather bead, T'Challa’s female guards, who are scary by the way, have their own, T'Challa has some unique ones. I've seen some of the teenagers walking around here with long strands of beads wound around their arms. Like teenagers everywhere, I guess they're into a lot of stuff. What's really interesting about them is silent communication. Because the beads are constantly on someone's hand, I've seen people communicating in sign language and having messages sent. I can't believe no one from our culture ever thought of anything like that before. I was told it originated from the time of hunters and warriors who had to move and plan attacks silently while hiding in the grass. The bead communication just sort of grew out of that.”

“You have some,” she said pointing to his wrist where a thin red leather bracelet wound around sporting three tech beads.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “We each got one when we got here. Communications, biometric and weather. And I'm pretty sure one of these tracks us wherever we go. I imagine they’ll be getting you one as soon as possible. For now, until we know anything different, I’d advise you to go ahead and wear it.”

“I will, but I won't promise not to examine it closely,” she said.

“I expect that. And so do they. Just try not to disassemble it in the process. I don't know what the cost would be if we have to replace them. But if you do turn up anything interesting, I'd love to know about it.”

“You got it,” she said, laying back on her pillow. “So do I get to hear the story about how you ended up here in Wakanda when last I heard the prince was trying to skewer Bucky?”

So Steve filled her in on the events that had happened since he left her at the airport garage, all the way up to the point where the Wakandan intelligence officers had been able to pinpoint her position in the Appalachians at the safe house.

Sharon whistled low to herself and closed her eyes. “I have to admit, that's pretty damn impressive, and I've worked with intelligence on SHIELD before. We knew only a little bit about Wakanda based on what information Howard Stark could give us about where he got the material for your shield, but it wasn’t much. We knew they were more technologically advanced than the rest of the continent, but we had no idea it was like this. They were so closed off for so long. Speaking of which, how long does the prince intend to let us stay here?”

“Indefinitely,” supposedly,” said Steve. “And Wakanda has no extradition treaties with any country in the world, so at the moment we have diplomatic immunity, even if anyone knows where we are, which I don't think anyone does. Although US intelligence might have an idea now, since I'm pretty sure the quinjet was followed by a satellite, even despite my attempts to shake them off over the jungle. Simply being on the continent of Africa and given the fact that T'Challa has been asking after the Avengers still on the Raft, well that's enough for somebody to put two and two together and realize where I am. It would be difficult for anyone to come in after us, though, and breaching the borders of the country would be considered an act of war, so I don't think an army will be coming after us, but I couldn't say anything about Tony on the other Avengers being sent in on a Special Forces assignment to retrieve us. I've promised T'Challa that if anyone comes for us, we will try not to let it go to a fight while still within the country, that if we have to make a grand escape, we’ll wait till we're over the mountains to do it. I really don't want any innocent people from this country to be caught in the crossfire.”

“Why is he doing this?” she asked. “He certainly doesn't have to.”

“He feels he dishonored himself in going after Bucky for killing his father without all of the information he needed to make a sound judgment, and then we find out it was really Zemo all this time. He knows Bucky was not in control of his own mind for the last several decades, and feels that the best way to restore his own honor and memorialize his father is to help us in any way he can. And he agrees that Bucky going back into cold sleep so we can learn to remove his programming is the best option right now. The scientists are some of the best in the world. They'll....they'll do right by him.”

Sharon reached out and grabbed his hand squeezing it sympathetically. “I wish there were another option,” she said, “but I've seen him when he goes off and I have to agree.”

“I know,” said Steve

“Well,” she said, changing the subject, “given that Wakanda has been so closed off for so long, does the prince have the full support of his people in keeping us here at all, especially one that could be kind of dangerous?”

“Mostly, but there is some opposition,” Steve admitted. “T'Challa isn't King yet. He still has to pass through some sort of rite of passage and trials. Once he does, he will be king, but until then, his position is a little tenuous, and there is some jockeying from his opposition that was there long before we arrived. Some of them might even challenge him for the throne. He doesn't expect to lose the throne, but if he does, we will likely have to vacate the country fairly quickly. If I had to put a number on it, I would say at least 80% of the population is OK with us being here, but the other 20% was raised in a culture of isolationism, and they are distrustful of strangers. T'Challa’s opposition is capitalizing on that, although to be fair, he insists they were challenging him almost as soon as his father died, before we even got here. He's not worried, so I'm not going to worry too much about it myself, unless it becomes an issue. In fact, we are staying in the newly built guest wing of the palace. Right now, we are in the royal family's private medical wing. When you're feeling better, you'll join me and Bucky in the guest wing. They've already made up a room for you, I think you'll like it. But the fact that guest wing was even built was a major step for the country. It’s nice.”

“I'm sure I’ll like it,” she said with an ironic smile,” but I feel I should tell you that I fully intend to search for bugs in those rooms.”

“Oh I have no doubt the rooms are probably bugged, but if you find any, I will be highly impressed. Both me and Bucky searched our rooms and we didn't find anything.”

“Let the intelligence officer give it a whirl,” she said.

He laughed. Then he sobered up and said “At the moment, I'm going under the assumption that the Wakandans and Prince T'Challa are our friends, but we are still in untried territory, and I imagine they are as wary of us as we are of them. Information is the key and honesty is important, so be honest with them as best as you can.”

“Do they want anything from us?” she asked.

“I've offered my services in any way I can,” he said, “but honestly I don't think they think I am good for much as far as Wakandan culture is concerned. I even offered to go work out in some fields and build some schoolhouses, but they just smiled and said that let me know. T'Challa said something about looking over the Wakandan army and seeing where there might be strengths and weaknesses that could be balanced. His intelligence division might want to talk to you about where they might be able to make improvements, although I'm not expecting you to give up any United States secrets are anything. We are still U.S. citizens, and until further notice, we are not fired from the US Army or the CIA, so until someone tells me different, my loyalty is still to America, although to be fair, Wakanda and the US are allies, so helping them with their defense force is perfectly justified.”

“So you're planning to stay here a while?” she asked.

“For lack of anywhere to go, yes,” he said. “I probably won't stay permanently. If I see something serious going down somewhere in the world, it'll be hard to stay put and watch. But after everything that's happened, I think some time off is in order. This isn't a bad place to take it. What about you?”

She settled back onto her pillow and her eyes met his. They were so blue. And earnest, but troubled as if he dreaded her answer.

“When everything went down,” she said, “my plan was to lay low and see where I might be able to go. I thought about hooking back up with SHIELD, but they're trying to go legit with the government and turning me in would be a good way to do it. I haven't heard from my friend Bobbi since SHIELD fell. I had thoughts about trying to find her, or her ex-husband Hunter. Last I heard, he was freelancing. Maybe he'd know where she was. Then I realized that my skills, my experience, they're useful to a lot of various interest groups. I'm not a traitor to my country. When I think of treason, I think Benedict Arnold, not giving Captain America his shield back. My loyalty is still to the U.S., even if they want me in the Raft. But I can still serve my country freelancing. I have technical skills and resources, and I'm good at finding terrorist groups online. I can do that from anywhere. I’d still like to.”

“So you'd still be doing what you did for the CIA and SHIELD, only on your own?” asked Steve.

“Probably,” she said. “Or I could travel to Syria and start shooting Daesh fighters. They're paranoid about being shot by a woman. And they'd never see me coming. I could easily get bored behind a computer. I should ask Natasha if she wants to go. She'd be up for it.”

Steve held up a hand. “How about we hold off forming Amazon freelance unit for now? I could use both of you really.”

“For what?” she asked.

“Well for starters,” he said, “it's been a months since the incident at the airport. A month since half the Avengers have been imprisoned on the Raft, and the last T'Challa was able to determine, nobody's had access to a lawyer much less a trial. Given what Everett Ross said when we asked for one in Berlin, I have every reason to think they're just going to be left there. I'm not good with that.”

“You're going to bust them out?” she asked.

“It's on my to do list,” he grinned.

“Well by all means count me in,” she said with a smile. “Besides, I know the systems. They shouldn't be hard to override.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” he said.

“I'm serious, you know,” she said. “I have to be somewhere. There are worse places I could find myself than with you. I mean....uh.... Well you know what I mean.”

“Like starving to death in an isolated cabin in the woods?”

“I never intended to stay that long,” she shrugged. “No one plans to get sick. But lacking an actual workable plan for my immediate future, I might as well cast my lot with yours. That is, if you want me to.”

“I can't think of a better deal,” he said, genuinely relieved.

There was a knock at the door and they both turned to see Bucky Barnes standing there.

Steve felt Sharon tense beside him, but she forced herself to relax. From the look on Bucky's face, he had seen it too and looked downcast. They knew it would take some time before she didn't immediately shift to fight or flight mode at the sight of Barnes. And she might never trust him completely.

“I just came to see how you're feeling,” Bucky said quietly.

“Thanks,” she said. “Much better actually. I'm hoping they let me out soon. I'm curious to explore.”

Bucky half smiled. “There's no shortage of stuff to look at.”

“Well, no exploring for two more days,” said Dr. D'Joro coming in. “I'm still insisting on full rest and no exertion. But you've stabilized nicely, so I can grant your wish about getting out of here. You'll still need to take some antibiotics for a few days. But you can go to your guest quarters now.”

“Great!” said Sharon, the tension leaving her face. She sat up to let the doctor take the IV out and unhook her from the monitors. Steve sat back to watch and forced himself to breathe, something he forgot to do when her dazzling honest smile had hit him. He glanced over at Bucky who was giving him a wry look. Steve tried unsuccessfully to roll his eyes.

Dr. D'Joro was giving Sharon a kimoyo bracelet and explaining some about the beads, as Steve had been instructed. Sharon appeared attentive, but Steve could see a slight bit of worry on her face at being told to wear the unfamiliar tech that likely could track them, maybe even stun them.

After a final checkup, Sharon begrudgingly got into a hovering version of a wheelchair and Steve pushed her from the medical wing to the guest wing. She wanted to get up and walk as soon as they were out of sight, but Steve convinced her to humor him. She grumbled something about not being an invalid and busied herself studying the hover technology used in the transport chair. They passed by several windows and Steve made sure that she got to look out over some of the beautiful vistas, where it wasn't obscured by fog. Bucky was mostly silent but spoke up a few times to point out things he had noticed that Steve hadn't. Sharon asked them both several questions and seemed almost bursting with curiosity. It was going to take some effort to convince her to stay in bed or on a sofa for the next two days and rest as the doctor had ordered.

As they pulled up to the room that have been set aside for her, Bucky took his leave saying something about going to the workout room to work out and disappeared around the corner.

“Well, he seems to have cheered up a bit,” Sharon said somewhat ironically.

“Given his circumstances, I'm surprised he's not staring at a wall 24 and 7,” said Steve.

“The same could be said for you,” she said standing up out of the chair, determined to not be pampered any longer. He followed her into her room and she asked, “How are you holding up?”

He shrugged. “Well I've pretty much filled you in on everything that happened, so there's no need to recap. I guess I'm doing as well as any guy would who had lost his entire world and everyone he cared about that he considered family. Twice.”

She dropped her bag on the nearest chair and walk over to give him a hug that was mostly meant to be friendly, although it sent sparks of awareness through both of them.

“I can sort of relate and sympathize,” she said, “although nobody would argue that my upheaval in anyway matches yours. Upsetting is upsetting, I suppose, but I get it.”

“Yeah I'm pretty sure you do,” he said.

They hugged for a few moments longer, and then she gently pulled away to survey her new quarters. She hummed in appreciation once she got a really good look at it. The walls were made of some sort of material she couldn't identify, not quite sheet rock but not metal, rather something in between, and the color of soft savannah yellow. Some sort of microfiber carpeting made up the floor, and deep brown wooden furniture furnished the room. There was a comfortable looking sofa in front of what looked like a flat screen television, which was no thicker than a sheet of metal. The lights and climate controls were voice activated. She found the wardrobe and dresser filled with casual western styled clothes and sleepwear, though she ran her fingers over an African patterned shift that she thought would look pretty good on her, but maybe for some sort of fancy gathering. The bed was king sized and, she would later learn, insanely comfortable, covered in a quilt that had a distinctive pattern to it that was African in nature, but of a style she had never seen before. A window looked out over a foggy but beautiful vista of jungle and mountains. In short, the place was spectacular.

“I'll show you the main rec room later,” Steve said. “In the meantime, the TV picks up satellite from all over the world, so take your pick of what you want to watch. Just do me one favor?”

“What's that?” she asked.

“Try, really really try to get some rest. As in lie in bed or sit on the couch. You’re not nearly up to speed yet, and I'm pretty sure the doctor will confine you back to medical wing if you don't.”

She laughed. “Don't worry, I'm too tied to go disobeying medical orders today. Can't promise about tomorrow though.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I'll bring you some lunch a little later. Maybe we could watch a movie or something?”

“Sounds fun,” she said stretching out on the bed and burying her face in a pillow that was simply perfect.

At the sight of her luxuriating on the bed, Steve’s throat suddenly went dry.

“Right. Um. Ok. I'll......uh, let you relax then. See you in a bit.” He gave a half wave and then beat a hasty retreat out the door to his own room. He had already pounced on her when she was practically on death’s door step. The least he could do was contain himself until she was better. Or had he lost all sense of decency? Changing his mind, he turned to head to the workout room figuring a good 30 mile run at top speed on the treadmill was exactly what he needed. He knew Bucky would raise his eyebrows but likely wouldn't make a comment. For the first time in decades, Steve was slightly glad Dum Dum Dugan wasn't here. The comments that man would have made would have been blistering.

000000000

Three days later, sitting on the rec room couch watching Sharon slowly savor slices of juicy ripe mango while watching a video from the newly formed Wakandan Foreign Ministry designed to act as an introduction to the country for visitors, as they had volunteered to give their opinions and suggestions for changes, Steve privately wondered if he should take to running 60 miles at top speed to clear his head of Sharon, because clearly 30 miles wasn't enough. He was barely paying any attention to the video he had promised to watch and evaluate, and he had barely noticed Bucky purposely making himself scarce the last couple of days, partially to give Steve alone time with Sharon, but also because he sensed she was still wary around him and tense when he was in the same room, as if she were afraid he'd snap again. But she had agreed to sit in with them tomorrow on a planning session with T'Challa on the subject of busting Steve’s side of the Avengers out of prison, so that likely meant she was willing to work with Bucky at least.

Steve tried not to stare and kept forcing himself to look back at the screen and try to concentrate on the video. She looked so much better. Dr. D'Joro had pronounced Sharon basically cleared to resume normal activity as energy permitted that morning, and Sharon headed straight to the workout room to have a go on the treadmills and punching bags. Steve had been impressed with her technique, she was clearly on par with Natasha, but had worried a little when she had tired sooner than she was used to.

“Still feeling ok?” he asked.

“Actually I feel fine,” she said. "Just not as much energy as usual. That will pass I'm sure. No worries. I'm not about to drop dead on you.”

“Imagine my relief,” he said, reaching over to snag a mango. He was aware of her staring as he popped it in his mouth. When he looked at her, she gave him a half smile and quickly looked back at the screen.

The video was ending and he was about to suggest they find something else to watch to fill in the silence when she reached over and took his hand.

“I think we need to talk,” she said softly.

Steve felt his nerves kick up a few notches. He might not have much experience with women, but common sense told a man that when a woman used those words in conversation, the next few minutes were going to be uncomfortable for him, whether it was good or bad news.

“What about?” he asked.

“When you came to get me, back at the cabin I mean... I was....really glad to see you and I know you were glad to see me. And I wasn't thinking clearly. I normally don't just...”

“Sharon, you don't have to say anything,” he said privately hoping she wouldn't. “It's been an overwhelming time and we're not at our usual best.”

“The thing is,” she said. “Jesus, I don't even know how to get this out. The thing is, I'm not sorry it happened. I just don't, you know, want you to be either.”

“Rest assured, I'm not,” he said meeting her gaze dead on to emphasize this point.

Sharon felt a shiver go up her spine. “I guess I have to risk sounding like an idiot and just lay it out. Either you like me or you don't, and I don't mean as a friend. I think there were some sparks even back when we lived next to each other and you didn't know who I was. I know I felt something even if you didn't. And I don't think that has changed much even though we both now know about each other and you know who I am. When we spent the day together after the funeral, it seemed, I don’t know, like a date. And it was enjoyable, at least for me.”

“You aren’t imagining it,” he agreed. “And I do like you. As a friend but, more too, you know?”

She smiled. “Glad to know I'm not just imagining things.”

“You aren't. And same here.”

“Thing is,” she said somewhat hesitantly, “I know what people will say, and to a certain extent I'm saying it to myself. We probably need to address the elephant in the room between us.”

“Peggy?” he asked softly.

She nodded. “I loved my aunt. I know you did too. I know she was able to move on with her life, and she would want the same for you. And probably me too. And honestly, I don't think she would be unhappy with these developments. In fact, I'm pretty sure she would laugh her butt off. For a lengthy amount of time.”  
Steve snorted.

“But the thing is,” she said, “that irritating little voice in the back of your mind that always tells you when you're screwing up? Right now mine is screaming at me. It's saying you're only interested in me because I'm Peggy's niece, and because she's gone now, even though I knew you were interested before you knew that about me. Although she never made my uncle feel like he was competing with you, I think deep down on a certain level, he always wondered that about the relationship, whether he was playing second fiddle to you all the time. I can't help but wonder if that's going to be the case with me, if we decide we wanted to be more than friends. Is it me you're interested in the fact that my last name is Carter?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” he said softly. “And you're right, I was interested in you before I knew who you were and more so now, not because of, but in spite of the fact. It helps that you’re very different from her, at least in appearance and in some mannerisms, although you are alike in other ways, but honestly it would be very difficult for me if you were more like her than you are. Sharon, you have to believe that when I'm with you, however that is, it's because that's where I want to be. And because it's with you, and not with anyone else. I'm not looking for a replacement for anyone. I like *you.* And besides, I could equally argue a similar thing in your direction.”

“How?” she asked.

“Before Project Rebirth, I was basically a non-entity to the female side of the human population. I know you've seen that photograph that Peggy kept. I was a scrawny, sickly little disgrace. Nobody was lining up. And then after the transformation, suddenly I couldn't keep people from staring. Women practically threw themselves at me, and I can't tell you how uncomfortable it was. Sure, some guys would have loved the attention, but I never did, and I couldn't help but question their motives. After all, if my personality and interests weren’t enough before my physical changes, then why were they suddenly interested now? As before, it was all due to appearance. Nobody wanted Steve Rogers. They wanted Captain America. So which one do you want? Part of me will wonder.”

“Well, at the risk of sending your own words back in your court,” she said with a smile, “I think you already know the answer. I want you. Steve. If I wanted Captain America, I would be in a troublesome situation right now wouldn't I? You dropped the shield. And yet here I am still here.”

“Yes I did and yes you are,” he agreed. “So where does that leave us?”

“Dating maybe?” she said with a laugh. “I don't know, how would you have gone about this in your time if I had indicated an interest?”

He laughed in response. “Well, the process of asking a girl out was for more regimented in my time. These days, you kids just text each other and say ‘hey you want to go out sometime’ and that's it. At the risk of sounding like someone's grandfather, in my day we didn't do that. If you were interested in a girl, you waited to meet her either in front of her home or out on the street, but any place where she was noticeably surrounded by at least one or two friends or her parents. Or you could ask at social gatherings or at church or something. But you started by asking her to go to some kind of event with you, either the movies or a dance or something. If she said yes, then you showed up at her house a good 10 minutes early in order to meet her parents and preferably have a good strong handshake with her father. Her dad would set a curfew and you were to have her home before that curfew if you wanted to remain in his good graces. Now, the dating process was not set in stone with one girl. A guy could go through this process with three women at the same time during the same week if he wanted, and nobody would consider it to be a bad thing, unless he had asked her to go steady. I don't know if anyone uses this term anymore, but basically it means you're dating exclusively and going out with anyone else is seen as a breach of trust. This is usually the point where the couple exchange some sort of personal item to keep with them, like the guy would give the girl his class ring or his jacket.”

Sharon was looking at him with an almost wistful, dreaming expression. “My uncle liked a lot of 1950s rock 'n' roll,” she said. “In the lyrics, you would hear terms like ‘going steady’ or ‘someone was wearing someone else's ring.’ And thanks to some of the old movies of the time, I kind a got that impression. A lot of that was left behind in the 60s and 70s, but you know there something sort of sweet about the whole process.”

“Well,” he said, “I was mystified by the process then, I'm sort of mystified about it now. Stuff today is totally acceptable that never would've been in my time, although not all of it is bad. My mom would have been shocked though.”

Sharon smiled and said, “Well, today it's acceptable for either a guy or the girl to do the asking, although it is sort of understood that whoever does the asking does the paying. Some people still exchange rings and things like that, but not as much. And people get physical a lot sooner. How common was that in your time? Seems like a girl could get lynched if she got too far before marriage.”

Steve shrugged. “Every guy I knew had a certain level of experience, and that meant they had to find girls to have that experience with. Whatever the moral police of my time or the media and literature would say, people were just as active then as they are now, just not as open about it.”

Sharon wanted to ask him about his experience, and she could see he was slightly curious about hers, but she opted out of it, figuring that was probably a discussion for another time, if ever. Besides, she was 100% certain that she did not want to hear that her aunt had been one of those experiences.

He held out an arm to her and she leaned across the couch to settle across his chest, wrapping her own arms around him. Wow that felt good. She snuggled against him, feeling contentment for the first time in ages. His scent filled her nostrils, that musky piney scent. She wanted to wrap herself around his solid mass of muscle, but settled for burying her face in his chest and inhaling. Steve was doing his own share of memorizing her scent, something like tea tree oil and honeysuckle, while trying to ignore the rapidly growing tightness in his groin and the sensation of her draping herself across his body and snuggling him. The TV was forgotten as he leaned back against the sofa and dragged her over him and up. His lips met hers urgently and within seconds she was responding.

Her slender hands brushed his chest and shoulders, reaching up to tangle in his hair, and she bent him into a better angle. His own hands were exploring her back and hips, which felt great but he seemed shy about going any further. She pushed her hips against his and felt the unmistakable bulge in his pants, and sensed his answering whimper as he tried to move away slightly, but she followed, pressing against him.

He broke the kiss and whispered “Sorry. You've sort of got my attention.”

She smiled and kissed him. “That's not a bad thing, Steve.”

“No it's not. I just don't want to assume too much. Or rush you.”

“I don't feel rushed. Do you?”

“A little, but not in a bad way,” he admitted. “And if we don't slow down, I can't promise I'll be able to.”

“And if I don't want you to slow down?” She quirked an eyebrow up at him. He felt his own eyes widen. Was she serious?

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “I don't want anybody having any regrets about this tomorrow.”  
“No regrets here,” she agreed. “As long as you don't.”

Steve knew she had firmly thrown the ball back in his court. He knew he would give her every opportunity to back out at any point, but he also knew that she was perfectly on board with anything that might happen in the immediate future. She clearly wasn't the one with any hesitation. If he wanted her now, he was going to have to make the choice. He didn't want to make the wrong one. He looked at her again and decided to hell with being careful or proper. To hell with what anyone would think, even Peggy if she were still here. He liked Sharon. He wanted her. She wanted him, Steve, not Cap. And he was tired of doing the "right" thing.

“No regrets here,” he agreed.

“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked with a touch of humor.

“Your room or mine?” he asked.

“Mine’s closer,” she said, kissing him firmly and then helping him to his feet.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve's heart was pounding nearly out of his chest as Sharon took his hand and led him from the rec room down the hall to the bedrooms. He could scarcely believe this was actually happening, and with Sharon Carter. Nervously, he looked around for Bucky, hoping that they avoided running into his longtime friend who, Steve knew, would probably know exactly where they were heading and why. Then he remembered Bucky was down in the lab talking with the scientists about the trial run of the cold sleep pods. Apparently they were waking up the test monkey from cold sleep this morning, and if all went well, Bucky would go into the pod next. Steve forced himself not to think about it, his thoughts turning back to Sharon as they came up to her door. She seemed to hesitate a second, as if either reconsidering or giving him the chance to. Then, with resolve, she pushed open the door and pulled him through, closing it behind them. Steve shuffled nervously as she kicked her shoes into a corner and he did the same. He was pretty sure this was the point where he was supposed to say something witty and lighthearted to lighten the mood but he couldn't think of anything. He thought about asking her again if she was sure about this, but he stopped himself knowing that Sharon was never an indecisive person. She wouldn't be here with him unless he was absolutely certain she wanted to be. Besides, he didn't want her to think he was indecisive. He wasn't. But he knew he was probably going to have to come clean about his lack of experience. He was almost certain he was going to disappoint her and she probably had the right to know that in advance.

He had a sudden vision of her face masking disappointment muttering "that was *it*?" And he shook his head hard to dispel it.

“Everything ok?” she asked, slightly concerned.

“Uh yeah. Fine. There's um...just one thing I should probably...uh...tell you about.”

“Uh oh,” she said, attempting at humor. “Is this where you tell me Project Rebirth caused some changes you weren't expecting, and not to be alarmed?”

He smiled nervously. “No, nothing like that. Well nothing too major.”

As he looked away, the humor left her eyes and she went to him and wrapped her arms around him. Then she looked into his eyes seriously.

“What is it then?”

Steve gulped, looked at her, then looked away. "Well it's nothing too serious. It's just that I....well...just that I've never, uh, really done anything, uh, like this. Before. Before now, I mean."

He chanced a glance back at her, expecting to see any combination of horror, disbelief or even pity on her face, but instead, aside from slightly raised eyebrows, she looked, well, compassionate.

“You're serious? I mean, like...never? At all?”

He nodded, then shook his head.

“Well...I admit I'm slightly surprised. I mean, you were a soldier in World War 2.”

He snorted. “Yes, I was, but not all of us went carousing across the French countryside. Not when some of us had girls waiting for us back home. Or in my case, back at camp.”

“Before the war?”

“Like I said, not a lot of interest from girls before the Project. Then after, well, not much time. I was in a war zone after all. Then I crashed and woke up 80 years later. And you've witnessed my attempts at picking up dates in this era. Pretty pathetic I’d say.”

“Oh, I don't know. I'd call it adorable, really.” She smiled. “And I wanted to say yes.”

“Adorable? Well...not exactly what I was going for but I'll take it.” He grinned.

“What about the USO tour?” She asked.

“Well I sort of considered myself Peggy's, really. I didn't want to, you know, let her down. Even if we weren't official or anything.” He shrugged.  
She closed her eyes and looked down. “I know I’m going to regret asking but…Peggy?”

“Nope,” he said. “Wasn’t the right time or place.”

“Well,” she said taking a step back. “Surprising maybe but not the end of the world. I mean, I get it if you want to wait. I mean...my mom once said you always remember your first time, so make sure it’s someone worth remembering. Kind of wish I had listened to that particular bit of advice. But if this isn't the scenario you’re thinking for your first time, or if I'm not...well...”

She looked away. Steve swallowed hard. It was a little disconcerting to see Sharon unsure of herself about anything. That she might be as nervous as him was sobering.

“No no, you're fine. I mean I'm fine with this. If you are. You're perfectly....well..”

Good lord Rogers, just stop talking. Are you determined to talk your way out of this? She's going to walk out of here in a second. Shut the hell up.

“You know what?” he said, trying to swallow his own mortification. “I'm just going to stop talking now.”

Surprisingly, she laughed a good natured laugh, threw her arms around him and kissed him. “Like I said, you're adorable. And I mean that in a good way.”

He kissed her back and rubbed her back.

“I just...don't want you to be disappointed. I've only got a slight clue of what I'm doing here. I don't want to mess this up for you.”

“Steve,” she sighed, “I promise, you’re not going to mess up. I'll help you. Don't worry too much about me, ok? At least this time.”

“This time?” he quipped. J”ust how many times are you envisioning?”

She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled him to her and kissed him in a way that made his head spin. At that point, he figured conversation time was over. She was fully informed and had clearly consented. Now, he just needed to shut up, stop worrying and let it happen. And Sharon was getting impatient. She brushed her hands along his back, reaching down to grab the hem of his t shirt and worked it up his torso and over his head. He let her, helping when necessary, and she tossed the shirt to the side and turned to look at him.

She stared. The lighting in the room was low, but high enough for clear sight. His torso was perfectly sculpted with washboard abs and not an ounce of fat anywhere. His biceps were strong and powerful and he was sculpted like a Greek statue, the low light gleaming on his skin. And just like that, she forgot how to breathe, swallow and think at the same time. Really, it should be illegal to look that hot.

Steve was never much for being self-conscious these days, but Sharon's stunned stare both unsettled and amused him. She was actually gaping at him. He knew by now that her reasons for wanting to be with him were emotional, not just physical. And prior to this moment, he had distrusted the fact that he was physically appealing when attempting to connect with women, but he had to admit, for the first time since Project Rebirth, he was quite enjoying seeing a woman's reaction, especially since it was Sharon who was normally cool as a cucumber. He briefly remembered the look on Peggy's face when he had first stepped out of the chamber. It had been a look identical to Sharon's. He couldn't help but appreciate the irony.

“Everything ok?” he asked.

“Um...yeah,” she squeaked, hating how high her voice sounded.

He took a step towards her and wrapped his arms around her. She nuzzled him for a second, snapping out of her reverie, and then stepped back to pull her own shirt off. She was wearing a sports bra underneath and Steve gulped, amazed at how alluring that could be when all of his buddies had talked about silk and lace. Clearly they had never seen a lithe and powerful woman wearing a sports bra. His entire body went rigid. Now she stepped back into his arms and kissed him soundly. He responded eagerly.

Somehow they ended up at the edge of the bed, and she took both of his hands in hers and guided him upwards to grasp the sides of her bra and help her pull it off. Steve was about to do his own staring but she didn't give him much of a chance. He only got a brief glance before she pressed against him again and now he got the added bonus of his bare chest pressed against hers. He bit back a groan as she trailed kisses along his jaw and neck, then his chest and back up again. He nuzzled her ear and ran his hands up and down her spine, relishing the sensation of her soft skin against his fingers. He smiled when he felt her squirm slightly, somewhat amused by the fact that Sharon Carter might be ticklish.

She reached between them and started to undo his belt buckle, and, in order to distract himself, he started trying to finagle the fastening on her pants. She tugged him closer and pulled him down onto the bed with her. He braced himself and moved over on top of her, reaching down to kiss her again as she went back to work on his zipper. He whimpered slightly as she drew it down and pushed his pants down off his hips. Rolling slightly off of her, and determined not to be self-conscious, he pulled the rest of his clothes off, leaving him naked beside her. When he rolled back towards her, he discovered that she had quickly shed the rest of her own clothes, and when their arms went back around each other, there was nothing between them. He debated on whether or not to be shy about the fact that his erection was pressing into her belly, but she didn't seem to mind, in fact when he tried to gently move his hips away, she followed with hers, keeping herself pressed firmly against him.

So he gave himself up to the sensation and forced himself to forget about being shy or hesitant, and let her take the lead. Instead, he focused on her and the feeling of her bare skin against his, her curves molding against his rigid frame, followed by her lips on his and her hands gently exploring him. He had originally thought they would get right down to the main event, especially since he was starting to ache with anticipation. But it became clear that she was taking her time with him, not dragging it out but not rushing him either. As her hands explored every inch of him, he followed suit and did the same with her. Sharon quickly figured out that he was mimicking her explorations, so if she decided she wanted his hands on her back, her chest or her thighs, she simply did the same to him and waited for him to follow. But she could see that his years growing up in a time where certain things were not allowed was holding him back. She had to take his hand in hers and guide it to her breasts, showing him how to squeeze and massage gently, as he wouldn't take the initiative to do so himself.

Steve felt vaguely like maybe he should be taking a more in-charge role, but at least for this first time, he was content to let her direct him. And he had to admit, his first sensation of feeling up a woman's breasts was a bit different than he imagined, but certainly not a bad one. While he continued exploring her, she dragged her hand down his chest, lower and lower, and then carefully wrapped her fingers around him, squeezing him gently. Steve broke their kiss, forgot about what his own hands were doing, and dropped his face into her shoulder not bothering to stifle his desperate groan. This was the first time anyone had ever touched him there, besides himself, and it felt amazing. He was also desperately close to coming, and he really didn't want this to be over too soon. Thankfully, Sharon sensed his distress as he pulsed in her hand, and she backed off, letting him go and snuggled against him giving him a chance to calm down. Instead, he snuggled back against her, focusing on her, kissing her gently and brushing her hair back from her face.

Sharon couldn't remember the last time a guy had been so gentle with her. Sure, he was nervous and awkward, but he was tender and caring too. She felt her heart pounding in anticipation and her own answering flood between her legs, but she also felt a swell of emotion that was dangerously close to the big “L” word and she wasn't sure she was ready to admit that just yet. She also couldn't remember the last time she had been this turned on by a man. Sure, he was built and gorgeous, but there was something about him, something inherent, that made it impossible to ignore him or not be aware of him. He filled her senses and nothing in the world existed for her right now except him.

Steve felt her take his hand and guide him across her torso, lower across her belly, and then lower, lower down between her legs. She didn't force him or push him, just guided him gently down and let him decide whether or not to explore. He figured it might take his mind off his own aching need to focus on her more intently, so he willingly slid his fingers lower exploring her. His fingertips brushed her gently at first, and then more firmly as he explored her folds and crevasses. She was soft and warm. And wet. Very wet. He knew enough about the process to know it meant she was extremely turned on, and he felt himself swell with a little pride at the thought of what he was doing to her. He slid his fingers carefully around, finding her engorged bundle of nerves and tweaking it gently. She whimpered desperately but it turned into a moan when he found her entrance and slid a finger inside. She gasped for breath as he moved it in and out, then went back to sliding between her folds.

She reached back down and grasped his shaft again, sliding down it to brush her fingertips over his balls, caressing gently. She swallowed his answering groan with a deep kiss. He responded but broke away gasping.

“If we keep this up, I'm going to be done for pretty quick,” he said sheepishly.

She chuckled. “Yeah I think we're done playing around here. Come here.”

She moved then, tugging him gently so that he moved on top of her as she settled herself underneath him and opened to him. His hips settled in the cradle of hers and she reached down, grasped him and moved him into position.

“Wait,” he gulped. “Shouldn't we...is it ok to....protection?”

She stroked his hair and said “Its ok, I'm safe. Frequent CIA medical checkups, and you have an immune system of steel anyway.”

“That's not the only thing I'm thinking about,” he said softly, gently stroking her belly.

“Oh,” she said, blushing suddenly for some reason. “That. Well, no worries there either. SHIELD and CIA female field agents often have contraceptive implants. I got one back in SHIELD. It just seemed...practical. I wasn't seeing anyone but you never know....”

“It's ok then?” he asked.

“Yes. If you still want to...” she broke off as he kissed her and settled himself back into the cradle of her hips. She repositioned him and arched her back, pulling him in. There was a brief hesitation as he gathered himself, and then he surged forward. She broke the kiss and gulped in breaths of air, trying to regain her breathing rhythm.

Steve froze, suddenly worried that he had hurt her. “Are you ok?” he asked, starting to pull out. She wrapped her legs around him holding him in place.

“Yes I'm fine. I'm fine. Just...(gulp)...slow down. Not so fast. Need to....adjust.”

She gripped his arms, forcing herself to relax and let him in. He moved slower this time, inching himself deeper and she rose up to meet him, her mind totally blank and filled only with the sensation of him on top of her and inside her. She couldn't think, could barely breathe, and she could hardly believe that this was really happening. That she was in bed with Steve Rogers, and that it was every bit as mind blowing as she expected it would be, and that, wonder of wonders, she was his first. She really wanted this to be good for him, at the expense of her own gratification if necessary, but it looked like that wouldn't be a problem. Already pleasure was spiking up her spine threatening to send her over the edge and they had barely gotten started.

Steve, on the other hand, was struggling for control, trying not to lose himself in the first thirty seconds like some adolescent. He was moving slowly, not just because she had asked him to, but because if he didn't, he was going to let go way too soon. He wasn't sure exactly what he had expected sex would feel like, probably better than his hand for sure, but there really was no preparing him for the sensations thundering through him once he finally pushed all the way in. He wasn't really in any condition to analyze the situation, but he managed to form a few thoughts.

Hot. Slick. Tight. Mine.....

He bit back a whimper as she arched up and nudged him deeper. She moved restlessly against him and dropped a hand to his waist, pushing and tugging, encouraging him to move. It took a minute to get a rhythm going, but eventually he got the idea. He dropped his head to hers and kissed her frantically as he moved. She rose up to meet him and the sensation of her moving under him snapped his control. He moved faster into her, relishing the unfamiliar but highly enjoyable sensation of the slip and slide of her body engulfing and accepting his. Her panting breaths and the light sheen of sweat breaking out on her skin told him that she was definitely on board with this.

Sharon felt herself spiraling in and out of reality. She completely relaxed into him and wrapped herself around him, urging him on. She was blown away by how powerful, and yet how gentle he was. His arms planted on either side of her easily held weight off of her without the slightest hint or tiring, and his strong legs entwined with her slender, though strong ones. But the power of his hips thrusting against and into hers was what really sent her over the edge. She had never been with a man who was more powerful than she was. A lifetime of physical combat training had left her reasonably assured that she could easily overpower any man who got too amorous with her against her will, or if she had had enough of him and he disagreed. Even her first time, which had been a rushed and disappointing affair at the age of 17 up in the boy's bedroom with his mother downstairs in the kitchen, most of their clothes still on in their haste, and they had gone right back to studying as if nothing had happened, had been a lackluster affair. And yet even at that early age, she could have easily overpowered the boy if she had wanted to walk away, thanks to her great-aunt’s early training, which had always given a certain dynamic to sex for her in which she had never really been vulnerable to anyone. Steve was something else entirely. Although she knew he would never hurt her or fail to stop immediately if she told him to, just the knowledge that he was more powerful than her and easily *could* have his way with her was sobering and added an element of risk to the whole thing, which heightened her arousal. She felt vulnerable to him, physically and emotionally, and it was a completely new, frightening, and yet wonderful experience for her.

She opened her eyes and glanced at his handsome face, his eyes closed blissfully, a look of utter ecstasy on his face and she rained kisses across his face and lips. He responded eagerly and ground against her. Her orgasm hit her hard and fast, and somewhat unexpectedly. She had known it was coming, never thought it would fail to arrive this time around, but the speed and force of it stunned her. She broke away from the kiss and cried out, gripping him as waves of pleasure slammed through her. Steve stilled in surprise at the sensation of her inner muscles clamping and squeezing him. He realized with relief and a certain amount of pride that she was coming, and that it was because of him. The milking sensation against him was too much, and with three more frantic thrusts into her, he exploded. His own whimpers of joy joined hers and he felt her orgasm again along with him. Tears squeezed out of his shut eyes at the intensity. He could die right now of a surprise Hydra bombing and he would die a happy man, and it seemed to go on forever. Finally, the spiraling sensation subsided and the energy left him. He had no idea how long he drifted in limbo after collapsing against her, though he had enough strength to roll to the side to keep from crushing her with his weight.

His breathing slowly returned to normal and he listened to Sharon's ragged breathing take longer to stabilize. Her eyes were still closed, as if she had passed out, though because of her slight movements he knew she hadn't. They were both utterly spent. He felt waves of affection pour into his heart and he carefully gathered her against his chest, brushing his fingers through her hair and gently kissing her. He found her lips and they kissed softly, affectionately, still moving slightly in her. She opened her eyes slightly and smiled at him.

“You ok?” she asked.

“Never better,” he grinned. “What about you? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she said, “though I might have trouble running if I had to. That was....wow.”

“Yeah, wow” he said sheepishly. “I see why everyone makes such a big deal about it. That was...you were....awesome.”

She snorted and cuddled closer. She ran her hands gently over him, relaxing him. Steve relaxed against her, drifting into the comfort of her caresses and simply allowed himself to just exist and be happy. Thoughts of his responsibilities and worries threatened on the edge of his awareness but he pushed them away. If all he had was just a few hours like this alone with her, he deserved it and would selfishly take it. Just a few hours. They must have dozed for a few minutes, though, because the next thing Steve knew, he was running his own hands over her, re-acquainting himself with her lines and curves. He was still nestled inside her, and he felt himself growing again in anticipation of having her again. He wasn't sure if she was ready for round two so soon, but to his relief, she opened her eyes and grinned, then pushed him into his back, rolling with him so that she straddled him. His heavy weight fit firmly inside her and she moved against him with purpose, sliding up and down while bending down to kiss him. He was amazing, how easily he fit with her. It was if they had been designed for each other. How odd that, if this was the case, fate had dictated that he be born nearly a century before her and lived a full life before ever meeting her, one which had included someone who had influenced both of their lives profoundly. Fate really had a sucky sense of humor sometimes.

Once again, Steve felt himself spiraling into oblivion, being pulled over the edge by the woman on top of him. God she was beautiful. He was blown away by how she was making him feel. He lasted longer this second time around but not by much. He shattered in a matter of minutes and she followed him over the edge with breathless groans.

When she collapsed on top of him, he drew her closer and pulled the covers around them both and just lay there basking in the afterglow. He was still trying to process this forceful new aspect of his life and what it might mean for the two of them when he noticed that Sharon was softly snoring on top of him. He chuckled gently but then chastised himself for pushing her, trying to remember that he had superhuman endurance and she did not. He gently pulled out of her, missing her warmth almost immediately, but rolling her to the side so he could cocoon them both in the blankets and drift off to sleep with her. He didn't know what was supposed to happen next but he did know one thing: he never wanted to let her go.

 

0000000

The sound of firm knocking jarred Steve from his blissful, cloud like dreams that included him and Sharon drifting in some sort of hazy void, making crazy passionate love, that had him on the verge of Fourth of July fireworks when he became aware that the knocking wasn't part of his dream. Sharon stirred next to him with a growl of protest. He almost pitied who was on the other side of the door.

“What?” she grumbled to the door.

Bucky’s voice came through frontage other side. "Come on you two, break it up in there. I held off coming to get you as long as I could but I can't anymore, sorry. T'Challa wants us all to meet him for dinner at six and it’s already five. You've been in there all day and you missed lunch. Get presentable, we're heading over there in forty five minutes."

Steve and Sharon's eyes met. For a minute they both debated having only Sharon answer and pretend Steve wasn't in there at all. But without a word, they both shrugged and realized there was no point. Steve turned towards the door.

"Yeah ok. We're up. Thanks pal. We'll be out in a few."

“Glad to hear it,” came Bucky's amused reply before they heard the sounds of his footsteps retreating down the hall.

“Well that went well,” winced Steve rolling out of bed and searching for his pants. He thought he would be more self-conscious, but he was surprised to find he really wasn't. After all what they had just done, what did it matter now?

“I wasn't exactly looking to take out a billboard announcing the fact,” said Sharon setting up. “But I guess it's not like we could keep it a secret if we wanted to.”

She glanced at the clock. “Damn he wasn't joking. We've been here for six hours.”

“I guess it's true what they say about time flies when you're having fun,” Steve joked, giving her when he hoped was an endearing smile. But then he faltered a bit. “That is I hope it was fun for you.”

“Fishing for compliments, Captain? I'm mildly disappointed,” she said with a joking smile. “But if you must know, I assure you I have no complaints. Actually you were great.”

“Do I get a numerical score?” he joked.

“Oh I would say you are a solid seven,” she said trying not to laugh.

“A seven?” he said in mock disappointment. “Clearly I need to up my skills.”

“Given the fact that it was your first time, I was actually surprised you had any. Most men take a good 5 to 10 years to figure out how to avoid disappointing a woman in bed, to say nothing of making it really good for her. Sadly, most guys treat porn as educational materials, never factoring in the fact that it's for entertainment and very little of what they see and it is actually enjoyable for the girl. But if you're up for some future rounds, then I can give you some tips.”

He pulled on his shirt and looked her right in the eye. “Definitely yes to future encounters, and yes to any tips. I don't want you regretting this because my technique sucks.”

“You don't have to worry about that,” she said with a gentle smile. “But what you do have to worry about now is the fact that our host has summoned us for dinner and we have less than 45 minutes to get ready. We both need a shower, and while ordinarily I might suggest a joint one, given that we are on a timeframe here I don't want us to end up being an hour late because that shower ran longer than we thought. Best to get back to your own room and take one in there. I know I need one.”

Steve only barely heard a few words past “joint shower” because he immediately pictured both of them under the spray, her body glistening wet as he moved against her. He was rapidly springing back to life again, already at half-mast, and he needed to get out of there before he lost any further control over himself.

“Right. Uh. Shower, got it.” He quickly made a beeline for the door. “See you in a few minutes,” he said giving her a wave.

She grinned at the idea that he had been reduced to single syllable words in the space of a few seconds, but rolled herself out of bed as soon as he was gone and forced herself into the shower. Although she would have rather spend several more hours in bed with him, she had to admit she was looking forward to a longer meeting with the prince to see what he was like, and hopefully get some idea of whether or not she could help rescue the Avengers still stuck on the Raft. For if her analysis was correct, she suspected that was probably the real purpose behind this dinner.

000000

Steve adjusted his clothes as best as he could, but didn't bother with his shoes as he hustled down the hall to his own room. Although Bucky knew what they had been up to, Steve didn't really feel like enduring a ramped up version of the "that's my boy!" smile Bucky and sambas given him when he and Sam had seen him just kiss Sharon at the airport. He now knew why the scramble out of someone's space back to your own after sex was called "the walk of shame," although he certainly wasn't ashamed. He just wasn't in the mood for conversation about it. He ducked back into his own room and stripped down again, jumping into the shower for what he hoped would be a quick scrub. Turned out his traitorous mind kept replaying images of what he and Sharon had just done, interspersed with that pesky imagined scenario of the both of them in a shower, one which hopefully would become a reality soon, which in turn sparked his immediate reaction. He ended up having to take care of himself just to get everything to subside back to normal so that he could face the Wakandan head of state for dinner without mortifying himself with a permanent erection. Not for the first time, he silently cursed his superhuman recovery abilities. Seemed the only limitations to the number of times he could perform sexually was limited to how long his partner held out.

He managed to force his mind to focus on the discussion he knew was coming up with T'Challa. He was going to need all his faculties on board, even if it meant pretending Sharon wasn't in the room. He didn't just need the prince's permission to leave and come back with escaped fugitives from US law, potentially throwing Wakanda into a diplomatic situation, he needed the prince's assistance which could also be a tall order. He was also going to need both Bucky and Sharon's help, which would mean bringing out of safety two people who meant the world to him and exposing them to new danger, and he was going to have to be willing to stand back and let them fight if they had to. He could not think about jumping back into bed with Sharon right now. He forced himself to get dressed and look presentable, although he thought he could still smell the faint scent of her on him despite multiple scrubbings. He checked himself in the mirror, checked the clock, and then rushed out to meet her.

Sharon was just coming out of her room, and when she turned to face him and smiled a little shyly, all thoughts Steve might have had about focusing were forgotten. She had put on the African styled shift from her closet with simple black pants and she looked beautiful. Her blonde hair was still slightly damp from her shower but it was swept around her face in delicate waves. His breath caught in his throat and he itched to take her in his arms, kiss her, pull her back into the room and unwrap her and pull her under him. Her smiling expression turned serious when she saw his eyes darken with desire.

“Steve...we need to go meet T'Challa. We're already a little late....”

“I know, yeah you're right,” he said. “You're right. Let's get going. It looks like Bucky already went ahead.”

They turned and walked quickly down the hall to where the guest wing joined the main palace complex. Steve walked a little faster than normal but was pleased to see Sharon easily keep up stride beside him.

“You look nice,” he said suddenly.

“Thanks. So do you,” she said.

They both tried not to smile goofy grins. This was going to be a long dinner if they couldn't stop staring at each other like lovesick teenagers. They kept throwing glances at each other though, even as they arrived at the dining room where Bucky was waiting for them. Bucky had taken some care with his appearance too. He was dressed in his usual comforting black, but his pants were new and the black leather jacket he wore over his black pressed Oxford shirt was new as well. He had pinned up the sleeve where he was missing an arm. He had also shaved and brushed his thick, longish hair and looked quite presentable. He smiled at their approach but didn't say anything.

“Are we late?” Sharon asked.

“Not yet,” Bucky replied. “You have a minute or two to spare. I was preparing some excuse about you two getting eaten by lions on a walk or something.”

“Much appreciated,” Steve said wryly, punching him slightly on his good shoulder.

They were about to say more by were interrupted by the arrival of T'Challa and some of his female guards from the Dora Milaje. The prince greeted all of them, including telling Sharon how much better she looked, before leading them into the dining room. Sharon followed slightly behind but not because she wanted to stay out of the conversation. No, she wanted to observe the Dora Milaje. The women were all dressed identically in black dresses with shaved heads and gold earrings, but Sharon could see that, while the dresses were fashionable, they were not restrictive and the women would be able to move easily in them if need be. Sharon could see the telltale bumps of hidden weapons under the dresses, although they were hidden cleverly enough to not be noticeable to the untrained eye. She figured her own weapons were probably apparent to any of them, despite her own efforts to hide them beneath the shift, though quick glances at the three faces showed that they were studying their visitors, but not exactly sizing them up. Had they not noticed the concealed weapons both she and Bucky were carrying? She had noticed that the Winter Soldier had concealed a few weapons himself beneath his jacket, and when he glanced back at her, she knew that he had noticed hers as well as the female guards'. He nodded slightly and relaxed his shoulders, which she also did. She had gotten the message. The Dora Milaje were there as T'Challa's guards. They were there as Steve's. Though no one expected hostilities, Bucky's message to her was clear: don't zone off.

Sharon went back to observing the women. They moved clearly like people with extensive martial arts training, and she knew they had seen how she moved the same way based on their stares. By the time she sat down at the table on Steve's left, with Bucky at her left, and Steve just left of T'Challa, she had mostly sized up everyone in the room. T'Challa himself was an impressive fighter with extensive training, probably on par with Steve, albeit slower and not as strong, but faster and stronger than a normal human, which bespoke of some sort of enhancement. He had clearly been trained to fight from an early age and would give any of the Avengers a serious fight, especially based on what she had seen him do. The female guards she would put on par with herself, Natasha, and Bobbi, though their abilities were not universal. The three women had taken up sentry in corners of the room, but Sharon noticed that the one who stood closest to T'Challa and Steve moved with the confidence of a leader and with more fluidity than the other two. If there was trouble, she would be the one to pay the most attention to. Sharon filed all of that information away and turned her attention to the conversation.

Although this was not a formal state dinner with pomp and circumstance, it was clear that this was more than a casual gathering. There was a spread of various African foods on the table, and after T'Challa had gone first, the rest of them sampled everything they could, with Sharon going before Steve and Bucky. There was a lamb stew and some type of tomato and ginger soup. Sides of lentil salads and spiced sweet potatoes and fried plantains filled bowls on one side, and coffee with fried bananas made up desert. If Sharon hadn't been on such high alert due to the guards, she might have been tempted to collapse in a hammock somewhere to sleep off the afternoon of amazing sex and incredible food. But instead, she forced herself to stay grounded, helped along by the fact that Bucky, silent as usual, had not relaxed by her side either.

Steve and T'Challa were talking about getting the imprisoned Avengers from the Raft.

“As near as I can tell,” T'challa was saying, “that the delay in officially processing your friends in the detention facility has more to do with political fallout then actual due process. Putting various members of the Avengers on trial would still leave a bad taste in the mouth of those who still support them. I know it may seem that everyone is against you and public opinion is against you, Captain, but I can tell you that is not the case. If the chatter on social media is any indication, then quite a few people agree with your decision to not sign the accords, and to demand that your friend Sergeant Barnes here be given a fair shot at a trial before condemning him for bombing the UN, which was later proven to not be true. In fact, in the eyes of many, you were vindicated in your stance when Zemo was proven to be the guilty party. So there is even some question as to whether or not charges should be filed at all against the ones who are incarcerated. And keep in mind that Ms. Maximoff is not a US citizen, nor does she belong to a country that is part of the UN, and so there is some question as to whether or not there is any right to prosecute her at all in a US or UN court. It would seem then that the delay in this case is whether or not charge can even be filed given the nature of events and if so how to not look very bad while doing so. While I still believe the accords were and are a sensible solution, for every fighting unit should have some sort of oversight and accountability, I agree with you Captain, as I learned the hard way, that to play judge and jury and issue a shoot to kill order on a fugitive without conclusive proof of his guilt, that is not something a force like the Avengers should be used for. And many in the world agree with my stance.”

“So in the meantime they just have to sit around in a cell?” Steve asked.

“That would appear to be the case,” said T'Challa. “What are your plans now, knowing this?”

“Everyone,” Sharon interjected, “let's consider for a second. We leave them there and they face charges of obstruction of justice and outright criminal behavior in aiding a wanted fugitive in escaping custody. But the outcome of everything proved Steve was right and the authorities don't want public opinion against them in prosecuting Avengers who ultimately did the right thing even if it wasn't legal. So they stall as long as possible, but there's a chance that, eventually, the locked up Avengers could walk or get lessened sentences. Or we decide they shouldn't be locked up another minute, bust them out, and then the really become criminals for fleeing custody and lose any chance of reconciliation with the government. Is that about right?”

“If you'll forgive me saying so, Agent Carter,” said T'Challa, “the chances of redemption and release are slim. It would mean admitting the accords were wrong, or at the least, fundamentally flawed, and being unable to enforce them in the future. They might look bad doing so in the court of public opinion, but they don't want to admit outright wrongdoing. They will not release the incarcerated Avengers. Not with Stark's side ready to testify against them.”

Steve looked at Sharon. “I tend to agree. So far playing by their rules has meant nothing. They haven't even talked to lawyers yet.”

“And they likely won't,” said Bucky. “I certainly didn’t. They'll keep them there until the world forgets. Just as they would have to me. Due process means nothing if the defendants are walking weapons of mass destruction. Especially the Maximoff kid. She dumped about three million dollars’ worth of civilian cars on Stark’s head back at the airport. Lang tore apart a plane. After everyone stops screaming about how much that will cost in restitution, then we start hearing about how a person that powerful shouldn’t be walking around free at all.”  
“And given Everrett Ross' snarky remark when I asked about lawyers,” said Steve, “I'm not at a point where I trust any political entity, US or global, to provide them with due process. Or a fair trial. No, I want them out of there. What they choose to do after that is their own choice. I hope they agree to come back here and lay low, since you’ve generously given your permission, Your Highness.”

“Everrett isn't a bad guy,” Sharon said. “Just over exuberant. And not prone to turning over all the stones he should in an investigation. And since he has Zemo to focus on now, well I doubt he's going to be paying much attention to the incarcerated Avengers.”

“And when he's done,” said Steve,” he'll probably park Zemo on the same cell block as our friends. I’d rather not make their lives any more miserable than having to share a detention black with Zemo. I realize he’s a grieving man, but he’s also highly dangerous, and we know that just from what we know about him, which is little.”

“I agree,” said T'Challa. “The sooner they are out of there the better. They are welcome here, but captain I'm afraid Wakanda can't be involved with a prison break if that magnitude and have it traceable back to us. The political fallout would be massive, and it would flame the fires here of my opposition who still argue that we should not be rejoining the world at all. They will use such a firestorm as evidence to remove me or have Wakanda become isolationist again. It's one thing to sneak Ms. Carter out of the continental US. It's another thing for a sovereign nation to engage in international trafficking of incarcerated and jail broken criminals of states. We can provide supplies, of course, but not official help. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy coming along. I imagine it will be far more entertaining than meeting with my ministers.”

“Understood,” said Steve quietly.

“Well if we can convince Natasha to come on board,” said Sharon, “that's four of us that can go with you. I'll get back into my message room and see if I can contact her.”

“No need,” said Steve, I” already did and I have a contact for her. But if you want to be the one to make the call, have at it. I know she’d be happy to hear from you.”

The rest of the dinner continued in companionable collaboration as the four of them discussed strategies for getting out to the Raft and getting the incarcerated Avengers out of the detention block. It was probably the most heavily guarded detention facility in the world, and it certainly wouldn't be easy but between Sharon and Natasha’s insider information on the layout and thorough knowledge of the systems that governed it, to say nothing of a little help from T'Challa’s intelligence and security department that could unofficially give them a hand, the gathering ended on a decidedly positive note on the prospect of rescuing their friends, even ending with Bucky describing the cryo- pod been successful and that he was willing to go into cold sleep as soon as they had retrieved the Avengers.”

T'Challa excused himself and exited with his guard leaving Steve and Bucky and Sharron to return to their guest rooms.

“Well I will see you guys in the morning,” Bucky said, giving them both a smile and beat a hasty retreat down the hall. Both Steve and Sharon felt their faces turning red but shrugged as he disappeared around the corner.

Sharon and Steve turned to face each other, smiling softly. 

“You know, Sharon, I…I don’t have any expectations of you,” said Steve. “Today was wonderful, and a repeat would be great. But don’t feel obligated.”

“Oh I don’t,” she laughed. “And I’m fully on board with a repeat. But…truth be told, I’m exhausted. I guess my stamina hasn’t completely returned.”

“Oh that’s…yeah totally expected. That’s ok. I, uh, I’ll see you in the morning…I hope?” he stammered.

She smiled widely. God he was cute. Less than an hour ago he was conversing comfortably with a king about planning a breakout of international criminals from the most highly guarded facility in the world without so much as a waver in his voice, but standing here in a deserted hallway discussing a personal situation with her was turning him into a middle school boy. She stepped forward and hugged him tightly. She felt him relax and hug her back.

“You know,” she said softly, “this doesn’t mean we can’t…you know, snuggle. If you want to stay with me…that’s OK too.”

She felt him relax even further and he bent down to kiss her, not in a way meant to arouse passion, but in an affectionate promising way. Of course it still fanned her flames slightly anyway.

“That sounds great,” he said with relief.

An hour later, they were curled up together in her bed, Sharon fast asleep, but Steve still slightly awake, gazing down at her, wondering how the hell he had gotten this lucky.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve carefully maneuvered the helicopter over the raging waters of the north Atlantic sea, watching below as the Raft came up from beneath the waves. It was disorienting to try to align the helicopter to line up with the opening at the top of the facility with the waves churning around and giving the impression that the facility itself was moving, even when he knew it was not. He wanted to glance back to see how his passengers were doing but he refrained from doing so, knowing that the only thing he would see would be the same sight he had seen only ten minutes ago when he glanced back for the fourth time: Bucky, Sharon and now Natasha all covered in black from head to toe, sporting nonlethal stun batons and icer pistols, suited up and ready for a fight. It had been Natasha and Sharon who had hacked the intelligence networks to get credentials and clearance for the chopper to even land at the raft, having carefully embedded their visit into a log of officially sanctioned visits that month. T'Challa had managed to find a Swiss helicopter on the black market for them and Wakandan intelligence had outfitted it to appear as a diplomatic aircraft.

After contacting Nat via the secure chat room, Sharon had convinced her old friend to come along for the ride in attempt to bust out the incarcerated Avengers, to which Natasha had rather enthusiastically agreed, and Steve had gone to pick her up in Norway of all places. While he was doing that, Sharon had managed to access the CIA and FBI servers using backdoors she had identified on her first day of work at the CIA, and had planted the seeds necessary to make it appear as if a Swiss diplomatic group had requested access on the Raft to ensure that the prisoners were being treated in a humane manner. They had broadcasted the implanted codes that Sharon had which, when double checked in the system, made it appear as if they were truly given clearance when the Raft had contacted them midflight. Actually, given everything had happened in the last two weeks ,Sharon was a little concerned personally that it had been so easy to get on the Raft itself. It meant that any others who might be incarcerated there who truly should be could rather easily be busted out by comrades on the outside with similar abilities. Steve had calmed her worries by saying that they were probably doing the World Council a favor by demonstrating how weak the Raft actually was once they busted their friends out of jail, which would hopefully encourage them to beef up the security for the super-powered madmen it was designed to hold. For his part, Steve was more worried about what to do once they actually got on the Raft.

They were all wearing disguises and the Nat was sporting a holographic mask that altered her face as she had the day she had snuck back into shield the day the Trisk had fallen in order to take down Pierce and Hydra. There had been rumors of technology similar to it in the form of a mask that could store the faces and voices of three different people, but it had disappeared in the Fall of Shield. The device that Natasha was wearing was a primitive version of that supposed mask that Wakandan scientists had been able to re-create using information she had provided them. At the moment, she appeared to be a middle aged diplomatic woman wearing an unassuming business outfit, but it did not change the voice, and so she was going to have to adopt a convincing accent and hope there were no voice recognizers scanning them. Steve, Bucky, and Sharon were also wearing disguises, but not quite as high tech, and they didn't intend to do any talking. Somewhat reluctantly, Sharon had agreed to stay behind on the chopper to keep it fired up and have them out of there in a moment’s notice if necessary, which she suspected was going to be the case. Steve, Nat and Bucky would go in to release their friends. There was probably going to be a very nasty fight in the process.

As Sharon keyed in the security code on her tablet, Steve watched as the doors opened below and he guided the helicopter down into the indoor platform. He brought the aircraft to a landing and slowly powered down the rotors as everyone on board readied themselves for a fight. Steve wished there was a way they could avoid having to get physical with the guards who were just doing their jobs, but he knew there was really no way to avoid it if they intended to conduct a jailbreak. He just prayed that nobody would get seriously hurt or killed. They were trying to employee non-lethal methods, but that didn't mean that accidents couldn’t happen. But if they could make it out without actually killing anyone, then hopefully it wouldn’t cause nearly the uproar it otherwise would have in the minds of public opinion and the authorities. Steve did not consider himself nor anyone on his side a criminal, but the moment they started taking lives was the moment they were truly no different than those they fought against.

“We have guards fanning out,” said Bucky. “I count for surrounding the chopper.”

“Six more on the gangplank above,” said Sharon.

“That makes a total of ten,” said Steve. “We're going to have to save them for later. We need the element of surprise just to get us as far into the facility as possible before they start locking down and isolating sections. We’ll get these guys on the way out.”

“We should consider that, as soon as the facility realizes what we're after, they're going to start locking down and attacking the chopper to try to prevent our leaving,” said Natasha.

“That's where Sharon comes in,” said Steve. He looked over at her. “Ice anyone who comes near the helicopter. Use the outside targeting systems if you have to. The Wakandans outfitted the chopper with some non-lethal weapons, icers and a sound gun, and a focused heat gun. It won't stop them from trying to shoot at the motors to disable, but it should keep them off the actual aircraft itself.”

“Got it,” she said, nodding and moving forward to slip into the copilot seat. She looked wistfully back at the other three on board, wishing she could go with them, but knowing intellectually that someone had to stay behind to guard the helicopter, and while she was a perfectly capable agent who could fight alongside them, she also was smart enough to know that the three others in the helicopter had skills that were only just marginally above her own and she had recently come off of a desk job and was a little out of practice. Steve and Bucky were far superior to any skills a regular human might have, and Nat had always been just a fraction faster than she was. Sharon was the better hacker, however, and intended to provide some sort of support by hacking into the Raft systems to try and disable any countermeasures and security measures that might go into effect as soon as they realized they were under attack.

Steve and Bucky and Natasha straightened their disguises and opened the door to the aircraft, stepping out onto the platform to greet the superintendent in charge. Steve breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that it was not General Ross who had come to meet them, but instead someone they had never met in person who acted as the warden for the facility.

The man strode forward, grasping Nat's hand firmly saying “Welcome to the Raft.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Nat. “We appreciate you indulging us.”

“Well,” said the warden, “I have nothing to hide here, and if the Swiss government is concerned about human rights violations, then I hope your visit will ensure that we are in complete compliance with international law.”

“I’m sure that's the case,” Natasha replied easily, adopting a Germanic accent. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

She led Steve and Bucky down the ramp and Sharon closed the helicopter from the inside, using the ship’s targeting systems to track the guards in the hanger to ice them as soon as needed. Then she turned her tablet on and began an initial scan of the systems of the base, noting with amusement that they had changed several passwords which she would eventually be able to crack, although she would need some time.

In the meantime, Steve followed Natasha and the warden as Bucky followed him down a hallway, and he made a mental note of the doors they passed and the corners they turned, as well as which ones required a key code or about to pass through. The warden was chattering to Nat about the various ways in which the prisoners at the Raft were processed and what privileges they were given along with psychiatric evaluations. At the moment, he was rambling on about Wanda, making Steve's blood run cold when the warden casually discussed running all sorts of tests on her to determine the origin and extent of her powers.

“Warden,” Natasha said somewhat sharply, “I was not under the impression that prisoners to the Raft qualified as scientific guinea pigs. Ms. Maximoff does have certain rights about whether or not she gives her consent to be experimented upon. And it is my understanding that neither she nor any of the other Avengers incarcerated here have been given access to a lawyer. This is troubling, especially considering that they have not been formally charged with any crime yet, and still they have been here over a month.”

“I was under the impression that they violated the Sokovia Accords,” the warden replied easily.

“The Accords had been ratified, yes, but were never signed, due to the bombing. The completion of the signing took place last week in Berlin. Furthermore, they had not yet taken effect at the time of the arrest of these individuals, and thus they were not bound to the Accords as of yet.”

“The were responsible for millions in property damage!” said the warden.

“As were the ‘official’ Avengers, I understand,” Nat replied smoothly. “And yet only the ones who refused to sign the Accords are here facing charges for…property damage?” 

The warden led them into an observation room where he pointed to several monitors showing the Avengers in their various cells, and Steve flinched at the site of Wanda in a straitjacket which, the warden had explained, was made of a specific substance that neutralized her powers to a certain extent so that she might not be able to escape. She was also being kept heavily sedated so that she could not focus her thoughts.

“The criminals who are brought here,” said the warden, “are the most dangerous on the planet. I assure you, we do not mistreat them in any way, but the bothers of human rights and whatever politicians like to talk about on the floors of their legislative houses really does not concern us here. We are talking about people who could exterminate entire countries if they want to, and if you'll forgive me, we do not really worry too much about their rights when we are concerned about saving the lives of thousands who would be lost if these people were free.”

“That might be true of a criminal like Whiplash,” Natasha said, “but certainly not the Avengers who have been pledged to protect the innocent, even despite some accidents? Every person in one of those cells has saved hundreds of lives.”

“Yes well, those ‘accidents’ have cost millions of dollars in damage, and quite a few lives anyway,” the warden said. “I'm not here to pass judgment on the prisoners. I'm here to keep them secure until further notice.”

“And have the Avengers been given any access to legal counsel or any idea of when they might face trial?” Nat asked.

“As you can imagine, your average lawyer doesn't often make the trip out here,” the warden said with a grim smile. “We can allow them to videoconference of course, but things tend to move slower for people incarcerated on the Raft. That and there aren't that many lawyers of competency lining up to defend them. The world itself and general opinion might be split right down the middle about who approves of who did what, but legally, the prisoners we have here now don't have much of a legal chance.”

Steve was actively biting his tongue to keep from retorting that this simply was not true, for there were quite a few very good arguments floating around the Internet questioning the legality of the Accords, or they legality of incarcerating the Avengers who had not signed it, which included quite a few lawyers. Especially in light of the fact that their intention had been to stop the release of more winter soldiers and keep the governments of the world from crucifying a man innocent of the UN bombing. However, both he and Bucky looked at each other, their eyes meeting through their disguises, knowing that it was best for them to remain silent. Besides, Steve was worried about leaving Sharon behind in the helicopter and hoped she was OK, and that nothing was happening. He needed to focus on one thing at a time and getting in an argument with the warden would not help their case.

“May we be permitted to meet with them?” Natasha was asking.

“Absolutely not!” said the warden, eyeing them with suspicion.

Bucky nudged her carefully in the back and she held up her hands in the gently calming gesture.

“I just thought I would ask,” she said. “I didn't really expect that we would get to see them. What we really wanted to see was the facility.”

“Well now, you've seen it, so…” The warden was obviously getting inpatient with their presence. “If there's nothing else, then we will see you out now.”

“Any chance we could get a look at the prisoners’ food preparation facility?” Natasha asked, stalling for time.

“I don't think we'll have time for that,” said the warden, glancing at his watch. The three of them used that momentary distraction to lock eyes with each other and nod. They had hoped to be able to go further into the facility before busting out the fists and weapons, but clearly this was as far as they were going to go with cooperation from the staff.

Steve sighed. He hated this part.

***

Sharon was in the process of overriding most of the security level clearances needed to open the doors to the cellblock when the alarm sounded. She looked up in time to see all of the guards in the hanger with their hands to their ears as if listening to orders.

She quickly moved her hands to the firing systems of the helicopter and sent out the stun shots, dropping all of the guards within ten seconds before they could react, even as one was beginning to lift his weapon and point it at the aircraft.

Well that didn't take long she thought. Sure enough, just as she was about to try and contact the team, Steve's voice came through her earpiece.

“Sharon, we're on the move,” he said. “How's it coming overriding the systems?”

“You should have a straight shot,” she said, pulling up a map of the facility and locating the three dots that were her comrades running through the halls, heading towards the detention block. They had all familiarized themselves with the schematic of the facility, and so the three knew exactly where they were going. Sharon tapped the screen of her tablet and the doors automatically unlocked and opened for the team. She watched as the three dots paused every so often, undoubtedly fighting with the security forces, before moving on. She hoped nobody was going to be seriously injured.

“We're at the cellblock,” Bucky radioed. “Three minutes.”

As she was listening, more guards rushed into the hanger and began pointing their weapons at the helicopter.

“Roger that,” she said. “I've got a bit of a situation here at the hanger, but I'm handling it. I hope nobody's getting sleepy.”

“Not a chance,” said Steve. “Do I need to come back?”

She fired the Lasers at the new wave of guards and dropped them. A quick check of her weapon systems showed that she could handle exactly one more wave like that, but no more. After that, she would have to start resorting to lethal force.

“No,” she replied. “Just get them out and get them back here as fast as you can.”

As she watched, Steve entered the cellblock and seemed to be going around in the circle, undoubtedly talking to each of the prisoners. She had not been able to override the release systems that would have let them out of the cells, but she could tell from the Nat’s dot on the screen that the other woman was probably doing that from a local terminal station. Sure enough, after about three minutes, all of the dots began moving back down the hallway, hopefully bringing the Avengers with them. Another wave of security personnel filed into the hanger and some of them were able to land shots on the aircraft before Sharon was able to take them out with the last wave of non-lethal weapons. She was about to start powering up the lethal force guns on the helicopter when the team suddenly burst from one of the adjacent always, fighting security forces who were now spilling into the hanger.

She opened the aircraft door and yelled “Everybody, move your asses!”

She grinned in relief at the sight of Clint Barton and Wanda Maximoff sprinting towards the helicopter with Scott Lang and Sam Wilson bringing up the rear, carrying their weapons that had been stored near the detention facility. Natasha and Bucky were backing up towards the helicopter, giving the former prisoners cover as they scrambled aboard.

“Where's Steve?” Sharon yelled, looking around.

Someone was about to answer when she saw Steve tumble from the hallway, landing on his stomach on the hanger floor, having apparently been fighting off five guys single-handedly in order to give everyone a chance to get to the helicopter. She saw one of the security personnel raise his gun and prepare to fire, and her heart leapt into her throat, knowing that he didn't have his shield to protect him.

“Steve!” she screamed, but was cut off as a burst of scarlet energy flew from Wanda’s outstretched palms and surrounded him, shielding him from the gunfire. Wanda yanked her arms backwards against her body and the scarlet bundle of energy engulfing Steve floated up and yanked him into the helicopter bay, depositing him on the floor as Bucky threw the door closed.

“Let's get out of here!” Bucky yelled, sliding into the seat next to Sharon. She was perfectly capable of flying the helicopter, but knew that Barnes was a slightly better pilot, and so she turned over control to him, allowing his cool and levelheaded focus to guide the aircraft out of the hanger. She tapped frantically on the screen of her tablet, noting with discomfort that someone had apparently recognized her intrusion and was trying to block her from ordering the hangar doors open. She typed in the last override code that she knew and ordered the doors to open. Bucky deftly blasted the helicopter through the doors before they were overridden and slammed shut. He quickly guided the helicopter over the choppy waters away from the facility as Sharon noted three aircraft come on to the radar, apparently following them.

“We're going to have to lose them quick,” she said to Bucky.

“Working on it,” he mumbled. He jerked the helicopter downward, just skimming the top of the waves as a submarine came up directly under them. The Wakandan vessel was not like other submarines bearing a resemblance to a smaller version of the SHIELD helicarrier, only designed to go under the sea. Bay doors opened at the top and Bucky guided the aircraft down into them, allowing the bay doors to close and the vessel to submerge just as the three aircraft sent to follow them would have come into visual range. For all intents and purposes, they had disappeared from the radar and from sight. It would take a couple of days, but the submarine would deposit them right off the coast of Somalia allowing them to fly back to Wakanda relatively undetected.

Sharon unbuckled her safety harness and turned around to see the freed prisoners hugging and cheering, and Steve picking himself up off the floor. He was barely up right before she threw herself into his arms and buried her face in his neck. He didn't say a word and neither did anyone else as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

***

The freed Avengers were as astounded by Wakanda as Sharron had been when she first set foot in the country, and she joined them on several tours of the palace and surrounding area with the newly appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs, which also included re-watching the video with them that she and Steve had never really paid attention to. Everyone was given their own bracelet and a welcome dinner by T'Challa.

Steve was ecstatic to have his friends finally free, especially the ones who had given up so much to come and stand by his side. Although they still slept in the same bed, she didn't see much of him that first week, as he helped the others adjust to life in the visitor wing of the palace, while also facing down the impending arrival of the day that Bucky would go back into cold sleep. For her part, Sharon spent a good deal of time with Natasha both of them trying to help Wanda to overcome the trauma of having been locked up in a cell once more because of the nature of her abilities. For the first several days, Wanda rarely came out of the room she had been assigned, and when she did, she preferred to sit on the couch watching television rather than talk. She eventually came out of her shell, however, when Sharon suggested that she take up coloring with one of Sharon's coloring books, and one particular afternoon passed quite pleasantly, almost normally, with the women sharing a bottle of wine and coloring and gossiping.

For her part, Sharon was quite happy to have Natasha there, as she was excited about catching up with her old friend who had finally gotten a hold of their third partner in crime, Bobbi Morse.

“I can't believe she's back with Hunter,” Sharon was telling Nat during one of their coloring sessions.

“I can't believe they ever got divorced,” Nat said with a shrug. “They were totally into each other, and the only reason they separated was for logistical reasons.”

“I'm glad she told us SHIELD reformed, but how about Phil Colson still being alive?”

“Hey, power to the man,” said Nat.

“How did the training session with some of the prince’s guard go?” Wanda asked.

“Pretty well,” said Sharon, recalling earlier that morning when she and Nat had taken turns in the ring with some of T'Challa's Dora Milaje. “They're pretty well-trained. We should endeavor to try not to piss them off.”

“Noted,” said Wanda with an ironic smile, going back to the picture she was working on.

“I talked to Barnes this morning,” Nat said softly.

“Was he ready?” Sharon asked.

“As ready as anyone could be in his situation. I know Steve's upset, but it's really the best thing at this point.”

“He's already asleep,” said Wanda.

The three women looked at each other knowingly.

***

Steve stood by the window near the science unit, looking out over the misty landscape, thinking to himself how grateful he should be given the circumstances. He had watched T'Challa walk away after ensuring Steve that he would not let anyone come for Bucky, and that his continued generosity was about honoring his fallen father by helping Bucky and the Avengers find peace. He knew he should be very grateful. Everyone was basically safe here under T'Challa's protection, even though he knew that Clint and Scott wanted to get back home to their children, and that it was unlikely that Natasha was going to stay. Sam and Wanda seems perfectly content to stay in the country, however, and thankfully so did Sharon. He was far from alone, so why does it feel like he was?

He turned to stare at the frozen cryo- pod holding his lifelong friend for a few moments, before leaving the science department to head to one of the balconies overlooking the landscape, thinking he would like to be alone for a little while. He had been standing at the railing for almost 30 minutes when Sharon's voice came from behind him.

“Is this seat taken?”

He turned to give her a small smile and she gave him an understanding one in return.

“If we were back home, I’d say it was a free country, but I’d probably be lying about that,” he admitted.

She came up alongside him to gaze out of the floor to ceiling window overlooking the misty valley and gently ran her hand up and down his back, comforting him.

“I checked in at the science lab on the way up here,” she said. “He’s stable, of course. But I thought you’d want to know, Clint and Scott want to go back to the States. It’s not surprising really, to want to be on the same continent as your kids. Clint says he knows where he can lay low and still have contact with his family regularly. Scott says he’s going to hide out at a place the Prym family has, though he mentioned something about someone named Hope busting his balls for taking off with the suit. Frankly we were lucky to be able to retrieve their gear from the Raft during the breakout. They’ll probably leave next week. Wanda and Sam want to stay though.”

“And Nat?” he asked, still looking out over the valley.

“She’s going to stay a while,” said Sharon, “But since she heard from Bobbi a few days ago, I think she’s going to leave to go try and locate her in the next few weeks. We’ve been worried about her for a while and Nat wants to see her. Apparently she’s gone freelance with her ex-husband Hunter. They were with the reformed SHIELD for a while, but had to break off to prevent an implosion or something. I’m sure I’ll get the details once Nat talks with her. Assuming she and Hunter haven’t killed each other yet. Or gotten remarried and took off to the Maldives. One of the two.”

Steve smiled a sad smile. “Sounds like a story I’ll need to hear at some point.”

Sharon returned the smile. “Clearly not now, of course. Are you OK?”

He shrugged. “It’s just so much to process. A month ago I thought I was getting myself back on track. The Avengers had some new members, we had overcome Ultron, overcome the fall of SHIELD, and I was finally starting to find a groove I thought I fit in again with a good team to lead. Then all this happens….”

He hung his head and shook it. Sharon looked over her shoulder at the science techs, then took his hand and led him away. She could tell he was on the edge of an emotional break and she didn’t want him to have an audience if that was to be the case. She led him back to his room and guided him in, closing the door behind them. He strolled to the window again, looking out as if trying to convince himself that he was just dreaming and that the beautiful vestige below the mountainside palace overlooking the kingdom was proof.

“I honestly don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here, Sharon,” he said as she came up beside him once more. “I’m wanted by the US government and all allies, which is a first honestly, given what I gave up to serve the United States. It still stings that after everything I’ve done, it takes so little to consider me an enemy of the state. If anyone decides to come looking for me here, I might end up bringing down some serious trouble on the innocent people of Wakanda, and T’Challa who has been so good to us, sheltering us like this. He brushes it off, but I know we are a political liability to him. If we consider him a friend, we should leave and let him get a firm hand on his throne without being convenient weapons for his detractors to use against him. And I don’t need anyone invading this country to try and get me. Us. T’Challa says ‘let them try.’ Well I don’t want anyone to try. I don’t need any more bodies laid at my door.”

“Where would we go then?” she asked. 

“I was hoping you might be able to answer that,” he said truthfully, “but it doesn’t have to be right now. We have a little time. You say you want to stay. Sam and Wanda want to as well. If we can ever make Bucky well again, we have the makings of our own team here. An independent team. It’s something I’d like to consider. But there’s just so much to think about right now.”

He drew in a breath as if he were in pain and Sharon rubbed his back again, wishing she could do more. She knew he was exhausted and emotionally spent. He only needed about four hours of sleep, but since she had been sleeping with him, she knew he rarely got even that and it worried her. She could see that he was hurting. Everything that had happened, the way his whole world had fallen apart a third time, it might be too much. Physically, he was strong and powerful, emotionally too. But a man could only take so many losses. His whole early life was spent sickly and weak, being left behind by his peers, the loss of his parents, the rejection from the army, then the loss of his world and Peggy when he went into the ice, learning to adjust to a world 70 years beyond him, finding, then losing SHIELD and the Avengers that had replaced the Howling Commandos as his family, then Tony’s betrayal that wasn’t entirely a betrayal; it was enough to drive anyone to a nervous breakdown.  
“I know I made mistakes,” he said, “but I tried to do what I thought was right. It wasn’t enough. I’ll never forget the look on Tony’s face, several times, when I opposed him, then fought him. He was hurt, he never got over losing his parents, and I made it worse trying to protect Bucky. That look of betrayal in his eyes….”

“Steve,” Sharon said, drawing him closer, looping an arm around his waist, “Tony wasn’t in the right this time. He should have acted better. Legally and ethically, he was wrong. I’m not saying he deserved to have his heart wrenched out, but…”

“He would have killed me,” Steve said firmly. “I would never do that to him, I don’t have it in me. Not to Howard’s son. But it hurts to know he has it in him. He would have murdered us both in cold blood and maybe not even felt anything walking away from it. And to hear him telling me I didn’t deserve the shield, that Howard had made it…”

Steve’s voice broke off in a choked sob, and Sharon was abruptly reminded that not only had Tony been forced to watch his parents die, that Steve had been forced to watch his friend die. At the hands of another friend.

“Hydra won,” Steve whispered.

“What?” Sharon said, whirling to face him.

“They did,” he said. “Captain America is finally dead. They got what they wanted. SHIELD is dead or dying. The Avengers are splintered. Hydra might be dead themselves, but they took us with them.”

“I don’t agree,” Sharon said. “Captain America is an icon, an image. That will never die, even if you aren’t the man holding the shield. And SHIELD, the good part of it, it still lives on. Coulson’s alive. Bobbi is alive, and they’re fighting. They haven’t given up.”

Steve smiled slightly, but looked out the window again. “I sent Tony a note. Handwritten. He’ll probably get a kick out of that, as much as a kick as he could get out of anything involving me now. I apologized for not telling him about his parents, and why I felt I had to do what I did. It won’t be enough, but I had to try to apologize, for my own sake. It’s all I can do. I’m only human after all. I did what I thought was right. And I was afraid to tell him. I admitted that.”

“He’d probably think it was quaint, like you,” Sharon said with a smile, “but at least it’s not easily traced like an email.”

“That and it’s harder to just push the delete key,” Steve said. “He might not have been in the mood to read it when he received it, but maybe he would be later.”

“Something else is bothering you, “Sharon said, “Not just Tony. Is it..is it me?”

He looked at her then. “No! No, not you. You’ve been…you’ve been a godsend. Before you, even with everyone around me, I just felt so…alone. I guess it’s why I looked so hard for Bucky. All through my life, as long as I had my best friend, I knew I wasn’t alone. And I’m afraid my feeling alone and going after him cost me the friends who were around me when I needed them and didn’t see it. I won’t make that mistake with you. I’ve been ignoring the loneliness, the isolation, keeping busy with missions, even dragging everyone along with me. But I have to face it now. There’s nowhere to run, no mission to distract me, now that we got everyone from the Raft. And I also have to face facts, that the Bucky I knew is truly dead, and the man who is here now, so different but still the same, needs help and I can’t give it. I just can’t help but feel like his decision to go into cold sleep is just another way for him to run away again. Run away from me.”

“It was the right choice,” Sharon said again, softly.

“That’s why it sucks,” Steve said. “But now it really feels like I lost everything. I gave up the shield, the Avengers, any kind of friendship with Tony, all for Bucky, and he…quit. Oh I know it’s not like that, but it feels that way.”

“You’re saying it wasn’t worth it?” Sharon asked.

“I think it was, but he didn’t” said Steve. “But Zemo got what he wanted too. I lost so many who were important to me. Including Peggy. I don’t think I could stand to lose you too.”

“I’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted.

“No one ever plans to,” he said. “I didn’t plan to crash that plane into an ice field. And now here I am, no country, no team, no family, and no purpose.”

“Steve, stop,” she said firmly. “You have those of us who stayed. Maybe we’re not enough, but we’re here. We believe in you. You. Not just Captain America, but Steve Rogers.”

“People say that all the time,” he said, “And I still haven’t figured out why.”

“It’s hard to explain, admittedly,” she said. “Just believe me when I say none of us do it without thinking. We agree with you. We believe in you. You did like Peggy said, you stood firm and didn’t move when it was something you believed in.”

“Yes but what Peggy left out was the cost of it,” he said. “I thought I could pay that price, now I’m not so sure.”

“Steve,” she said, “Whatever the cost, just know you’re not alone. We might not be what you wanted, but we’re here…”

He surprised her then, pulling her into a hug. “I’m sorry Sharon, please don’t feel like my bitter rambling makes it seem like I’m not grateful. I’m glad you and the others are here. Very glad. I just…I don’t want to fail anymore, not you or those who believe in me. I can’t sacrifice anymore. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

She fought back tears. She could feel his heart breaking and bringing hers with him. His shoulders shook, and she realized he was fighting back tears. She wasn’t sure how she managed to guide him to the sofa, but the next thing she knew they were on it, and he was slowly letting the dam of emotions break free. He had spent so many years fighting them, burying them, and now he was finally allowed to grieve, to grieve the way he had not been able to, for the loss of his world, Peggy, his loneliness, the Avengers and Tony. She cried with him, grieving for her aunt, and for him, and for her own uncertain future.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“For what?” he asked in surprise, wiping away his tears, his eyes meeting hers.

“For letting you down,” she said. 

“How did you ever do that?” he asked.

“When I was first assigned to you,” she said, “I consumed every piece of information that existed on you. I read projected psychological reports. I studied everything about you. I know you…so well….because of it. I could give a ten minute presentation if asked on why your love of 80s rock ballads is some sort of symbol for your isolated and yet romantic nature, that your constant repeat reading of certain books indicated how well you were adjusting, but what I wasn’t prepared for was you. You were a subject, an icon, Captain America of the comics and trading cards and old terrible movies and radio shows. You were like a TV character. But I wasn’t prepared for Steve Rogers. You, the person. I wasn’t prepared to like you. To care. To care about you and your feelings and who you were as an individual. I thought I could keep you at a distance while observing you, but I couldn’t. I knew, all those nights you would come home, when we lived next to each other, and I knew you were sitting in the dark on your couch listening to Glen Miller, lost in your memories of your life in the 1940s, and how lonely I knew you were. I wanted so much to go next door and comfort you. And I didn’t. I let you grieve alone in order to keep my cover. You asked me if Peggy knew you were my assignment? I didn’t tell her because I would have been breaking protocol, but I also didn’t want her to know that I was leaving you alone to twist in the breeze without support for the sake of a mission. That I was failing at being your friend, when you needed one the most, no strings attached.”

She dipped her head, hiding her face, but he caught up her chin and kissed her. It was a slow kiss, building in passion, until they were desperate, seeking each other for comfort and assurance. He pushed her gently onto her back on the sofa and settled on top of her. “I forgive you,” he whispered. 

He brushed her hair back from her face, losing himself in her scent and her presence. Her arms wrapped around him and he felt himself start to relax, as if the sheer weight of the world that had been threatening to break him was slowly starting to lift away. Their kisses started off slowly, tenderly, almost comforting, but quickly escalated to passionate. Steve felt himself converting all of his weariness and heartache into the kisses he was showering on Sharon, and she began responding just as eagerly. The world seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in each other. Neither knew who moved first, but within minutes, they had shed their clothes and ended up on the floor, Steve easily moving on top of her and Sharon responding by wrapping her legs around his waist. In seconds, he was inside her and the rise to climax was swift and powerful. She yelped in surprise and almost relief when the pleasure crashed over her, and he groaned and followed her over the edge. He collapsed on top of her, spent but finally somewhat relaxed. At least he didn't feel as if he was about to snap from the tension. He pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair, trying not to let the tears go threatening to break free.

He forced himself to roll off of her and helped her easily to her feet, where she wobbled a bit and gave him a flirty but almost sheepish smile. He couldn't help smiling back and taking her in his arms gratefully. Without a word, she took his hand and led him into the bathroom. She started turning on the water in the shower and Steve felt himself stir again as he realized his shower fantasies were about to come true. She turned on the spray and adjusted the temperature before stepping in. He was about to follow her, but hesitated at the sight of the water running down her bare skin and decided taking a moment to enjoy the view was best for his overall mental health.

He watched, fascinated, as the water glided down between her breasts and legs, and felt his mouth go dry and his erection return to full mission ready status. She smiled at him and held out her hand, inviting him to join her. Unable to resist any longer, he rushed into the shower and gathered her up in his arms and brought his lips down to hers. Now it was her turn to enjoy the sight of the water sliding over his skin, especially his amazing chest and abs. She ran her hands evenly over him, grateful that they had gotten there initial urgency out of the way a few minutes earlier, because she wanted to make this last and wasn't sure they would have been able to otherwise. He pressed himself against her and purposely rubbed his skin against hers. He felt her shiver at the sensation. They spent several minutes just feeling each other before turning to the business of actually getting clean, knowing that it probably wouldn't happen if they didn't do it now. They both ran their soapy hands over the other’s body, and admittedly there was more kissing them there was actual cleaning. Sharon groaned in ecstasy at the sensation of his soapy hands moving crossed her back and chest as her own moved over him, and her kisses became more urgent as she felt the need for him deep within her become almost overwhelming. His own need for her was becoming almost unbearable and he waited just long enough for the water to rinse them free of soap before pushing her up against the tile wall and lifting her easily to slide inside her.

She melted against him as he filled her. Everything ceased to exist for her, even the water pulsing around them, as she was only aware of the hard hot length of him pushing deep. He held her up easily as he begins to move his hips against hers. He felt her surrender as she wrapped her legs around his waist and held onto him. Her first orgasm hit faster than she expected so soon after their previous intense lovemaking, but she didn't have much time to dwell on it, as all she could do was ride the waves of pleasure coursing through her nervous system. Her heart swelled and she was almost overwhelmed by affection for him, and she was glad for the shower that hid her tears of emotion, afraid she’d worry him if he saw. Steve felt her ripple around him and he redoubled his efforts, feeling his own climax approaching swiftly. She came again, harder this time, and the milking squeezing sensation of her inner muscles proved too much for him. He cried out and burst apart inside her, unloading himself in helpless waves of joy and bliss, feeling his soul soar and his heart expand at the realization of how much he cared for this woman. They slumped against each other completely spent and he slipped out of her regretfully. With a few final comforting kisses, Sharon turned the water off and let him out of the shower to help him dry off. They didn't bother with clothes, she didn't have any in here anyway, but instead she led him to the bed and crawled in next to him.

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him gently for several minutes feeling him finally relax.

“I love you Sharon,” he whispered, suddenly instantly self-conscious, wondering if he had said too much too soon.

She was quiet for a few moments before she whispered “I love you too Steve. I have for a long time.”

“You're not just saying that because I said it first, are you?” he said with a slight tease in his tone but half serious.

“Nope, as long as you meant it too,” she said.

“I did. And thank you. More than you know. This isn't easy for me,” he said.

“Me neither,” she admitted. “There's a lot of history and baggage that we both had before ever meeting each other, to say nothing of everything that's happened since. But we'll get through it.”

“As long as I have you,” he said.

“Likewise,” she said with her famous flirty smile before giving him a kiss and snuggling next to him.

She was asleep fairly quickly, but Steve took a bit longer. He knew it would be a long time before he was able to mend fences with Tony, if ever, and it might be a long time or even never before he was able to wake up Bucky and get him sorted out. He might always be a wanted international fugitive, or it might be sorted out next week. Someday he might pick up the shield again or he might never. He didn’t know one thing for certain about his future, even if the friends who remained with him here in Wakanda would stay or leave. If they stayed, he had every intention of forming his own independent team to deal with the evils in the world, for he knew he could never truly be content doing anything else. He knew he would love and miss Peggy forever, but there was something poetic and starting his new future with Sharon, and he knew Peggy, after some initial shock, would ultimately approve. Despite how strange it might seem to others, he knew that there was no one else in the world who knew him as well as Sharon did, and that meant everything to him at this point. As long as she was with him, he knew that if nothing else in his life ever worked, out at least some part of him would be OK. It was all either of them could hope for. He smiled softly and drew her close, finally allowing himself to rest.


End file.
